


Don't Cry for Me

by The_Bentley



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alpha Centauri (Good Omens), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Heaven Won the Apocalypse (Good Omens), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Apocalypse, At Least Some Symptoms of It, Blood and Torture, Body Horror, Bullying, Comfort, Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Dear God I Put An Angel and a Demon on a Spaceship, Don't Worry It All Ends Well, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Escape, Eventual Happy Ending, Flashbacks, Happy Ending, Healing, Heaven is a mess, Hospitals, Hurt, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Bureaucracy (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Lower Tadfield (Good Omens), Multi, Mutilation, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Sexual Slavery, Oral Sex, Outer Space, Past Torture, Physical Abuse, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Psychological Trauma, Revolt, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sex, Slavery, Slaves, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Stalking, Surgery, The Ineffable Plan (Good Omens), They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), Time Travel, Torture, Trauma, Uriel and Hastur Have Brief Appearances, Vaginal Sex, Violence, Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-01-26 20:47:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 82,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21380356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bentley/pseuds/The_Bentley
Summary: The Apocalypse happened and Heaven came out on top.  Hell has been locked away for all eternity while demons captured as prisoners of war during the battle were taken to Heaven to serve angels.  Aziraphale and Crowley are reunited under these circumstances and make plans to escape the nightmare life has become.  Alpha Centauri looks like a good start if they can escape first to Earth then into the stars themselves. But other plans might be brewing besides theirs. Aziraphale must also be prepared for the dam to burst when Crowley can no longer keep pushing the trauma he endured to the back of his mind.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 216
Kudos: 583





	1. Concept

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a 666 Fics Fics Fics story and that small amount of words just couldn't do it justice. So, I've expanded it. I'm just hooking it on to the original concept for comparison's sake, really. The first chapter is the original 666 writing and the rest of it the greatly expanded story. 
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: There is non-consensual touch in this story between two characters (not Aziraphale and Crowley because I would not do that to their beautiful relationship). It's all above the waist and borderline if it's of a sexual nature or not, but touching someone without permission is still a violation of their consent. So far it occurs in Chapters 6 and 9 with a discussion of it in Chapter 7 and a mention in Chapter 11. There is graphic violence in this story later on. The chapters will be marked in the beginning notes.
> 
> The supernatural beings talk in different dialects in this story. They’re not all going to speak like they’re from England, right? I wanted to make note of that so this doesn’t look like a really badly Britpicked piece.

The world ended because he couldn’t find a suitable person to possess. Heaven won and it was not rather lovely like Aziraphale once thought. Endless Heaven was pure Hell.

They thought he had chosen their side when he didn’t return to Earth. Thought he chose to fight for them. He didn’t fight, but nobody noticed him searching for the being he loved.

He went into permanent mourning when Crowley couldn’t be found.

They decided to reward him for returning. Gabriel showed up in the library Aziraphale half-heartedly ran, beaming that fake smile and leaving behind a demon servant for him. Heaven figured he’d like his rival as a slave.

Aziraphale was horrified. Tears freely flowing, he vanished the chains on his partner, whispering, “Crowley… what have they done to you?”

“It’s not the best situation, but we’re both alive and… if I’m to be a slave, at least I’m yours.” 

The collar around Crowley’s neck had his name on it. 

Crowley. Marked. With his name. His slave. Retching, Aziraphale ran for the wastepaper basket. He felt Crowley’s arm around him, rubbing soothingly. 

Aziraphale went to tear off the collar. Crowley backed away.

“Don’t touch it! It’s to keep me from using my powers and spelled so they know if it’s removed. I’m stuck with it.”

Sobbing, Aziraphale embraced him fiercely. “We’ll play this stupid game while I plan, then we’re leaving, my dear.”

“There’s nowhere to go, angel.”

“I hear Alpha Centauri’s nice this time of year.” Aziraphale smiled through the tears. 

Crowley smiled in return.

To keep up appearances, the demon helped out around the library, acting meek when other angels came to read. But at night when they were alone, they held each other tightly while they slept, longing for the days when they could just_ be_ without this charade, hearts aching.

Until one night Crowley couldn’t stand it, slithered under the covers to give Aziraphale a quick blowjob. He sucked on Aziraphale’s cock until the angel, overcome with desire, begged for more. So Crowley slipped inside of him, defiantly loving his angel in the physical way they used to before everything fell apart. Cheek-to-cheek their tears mingled as they both orgasmed.

Crowley ran the library alone this next day as Aziraphale did reconnaissance, keeping his head down and his demeanor submissive. Evening arrived, followed by Aziraphale, who locked the door behind him then greeted Crowley with kisses.

“The old lift in Head Office still goes to Earth. I just need an excuse to be taking you with me.”

“You’re showing me around. In case you need me to run errands.”

“Good idea.”

In the morning Aziraphale prepared to take Crowley out. Hands shaking, he tried to attach the leash to Crowley’s collar, but it slipped from his grip, clattering to the floor. Crowley picked it up, clipping it on. 

Handing the end to Aziraphale he said, “Let’s do this.”

“All right, then.” Aziraphale gulped down his fears.

Nobody questioned an angel leading a leashed demon – a common sight. Nobody cared they entered Head Office. Creeping along the dark corridor leading to the lobby, they came to the lift. Aziraphale breathed in relief as the doors opened with a ding.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

Panicked, they scrambled in, the door shutting before the guard could catch them. Aziraphale broke the hated collar off his partner during the ride.

“Thanks, angel.” 

The doors opened, revealing the broken remains of the building on Earth. The entire landscape was blackened. Shocked, both paused a moment before Crowley pulled Aziraphale skyward, black and white wings beating furiously to gain altitude.

“We can’t hang around this warzone. They’ll trace that collar,” shouted Crowley.

They climbed higher and higher, atmosphere thinning, cold increasing until they burst into space itself. They were safe, for nobody would waste energy chasing them down out here. Laughing unheard, hand-in-hand, they twirled in the vacuum around them before heading off at impossible speeds for Alpha Centauri’s many planets. 

And found one that welcomed them.


	2. My Side Won

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _His eyes were drawn back to the collar where he read “#354-174 OWNED BY AZIRAPHALE” etched in the metal. Crowley. Marked. With his name. Identified by a number. His slave. Retching violently, Aziraphale ran for the nearest wastepaper basket, kneeling in front of it as the contents of his stomach threatened to exit his body._
> 
> _He heard Crowley approach him from behind, putting his arms around him as he cried. “Let it out. Just let it all out now because we’ve got to figure out how to make this nightmare bearable for both of us.”_

_And if after 6000 years, the world disappears,_  
_I’d fight angels and demons to find you, my dear._  
_I hear heavenly sounds in my head when you’re near._  
_I’m alright now, you’re here._

Aziraphale mourned the Apocalypse, the loss of Earth, that Heaven had won, that he hadn’t been able to find a receptive human to possess in time, but most of all he mourned Crowley’s absence. Heaven had vanquished Hell, driving the entire army of demons not killed or captured down into Hell where they were locked away permanently, never to leave that Realm. 

Heaven thought he had abandoned his plans to return to Earth and engaged actively in fighting, but he actually had spent his time looking for his partner. The war had ended without Aziraphale finding out what happened to Crowley. In the end, his grief made him believe that it really didn’t matter what Crowley’s fate was because they were as good as dead to each other. They were never going to see each other ever again. And on one level, Aziraphale hoped Crowley was dead. If he wasn’t, Hell would be dishing out an eternity of torture to him for his role in attempting to thwart the end of the world. Hopefully they just executed him if that was the case. 

Really, death would be a mercy for both of them, Aziraphale thought. He was daily going through his own form of torture.

He sat in the branch of Heaven’s library he now half-heartedly ran, looking out listlessly upon endless perfect days, not sharing in the celebrations of the other angels. Few came in these days; he preferred it that way.

“Hello? Aziraphale? You here?” an unexpected voice called as the library door opened. 

Aziraphale looked up from his seat by the window. “Yes? Is that you, Gabriel?”

The polished Archangel stepped in. “You’re spending way too much time locked up in here. You should be out celebrating.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” he replied curtly. “As nice as everything is, I spent six thousand years on Earth. I think I just need some time to readjust, really.”

“I have a surprise for you. Might cheer you up.” Gabriel beamed at him, punching his arm lightly in some kind of fake camaraderie.

Two other angels dragged in a dark figure in chains, ragged, dirty from head to toe, head bowed, refusing to look up. They threw the poor thing on the floor where the being stayed in a kneeling position, head still down. Aziraphale rose to his feet in shock.

“Crowley?”

“Yes,” said Gabriel, all smiles since he thought Aziraphale was happy over this development. “We’ve been handing out captive demons to deserving angels as servants. He’s your rival. You deserve him for doing the right thing and choosing Heaven over Earth. I had faith you’d come to your senses.” He turned to one of the other angels. “Want to explain things to him?”

The other angel nodded. “Now, since captive demons are kept powerless, he’ll need food and water if he’s to keep his energy up for whatever chores you require of him. He’ll need sleep, too. Going without those things won’t kill him, but he’ll be useless for any tasks. We’ve put him through basic slave training, but we know that every angel likes to fine-tune that training so it fits their needs. He’s been starved a little to take the fight out of him so you can further train him as you see fit.”

Gabriel chuckled. “I can see why. Crowley always was a strong-willed one, wasn’t he? Enjoy!”

The leash was handed to him, Gabriel giving him one more nod of approval before the three angels left, Aziraphale standing there holding it while trying not to react in a way that would be suspicious as long as he was in their sight. He dropped the leash the moment the door closed and their footsteps died away. With a miracle, he locked the door and pulled the roller blinds. Nobody would notice or care. They were used to his weird hours.

“Animals!” he spat out as he bent down to caress Crowley’s hair. The demon seemed to be in a state of shock. Aziraphale felt sick to his stomach. He worked on getting the chains off him, tears rolling down his face. “What have they done to you? Oh, Crowley, I meant to get to the airfield . . . I couldn’t find a body. I’m sorry, Crowley. Forgive me?”

The demon was shaking something terrible. Aziraphale miracled to himself the cup of tea he was having before Gabriel walked in to cruelly drop his partner onto the library floor and held it to Crowley’s lips. 

“Drink for me, my dear,” he said. “I think the sugar in it will help.”

Crowley slowly gulped some down, eyes closing as he did. Slowly he reopened them.

“Angel?” The tone was soft as if Crowley was just starting to come back to his senses. 

Aziraphale pressed him to finish the tea. “Yes, it’s me.” He reached for the collar to undo it as he miracled Crowley and his clothing clean.

“No!” cried Crowley, coming fully to life. “They’ll know if you remove it because it’s spelled. That nullifies my powers. You’ll have to leave it on or they’ll punish me.” The look in his eyes was haunted, as if he had endured punishment before.

Sickened further, the angel embraced the demon, outright weeping now. “What have they done to you?”

“Prisoner of war.” Crowley returned the embrace, inhaling the sweet smell of the angel, feeling safe for the first time in who knew how long. “They paraded me through the streets in chains when they captured me. Serpent of Eden and all . . . I guess I’m your slave now?”

“Never. I won’t allow it,” replied Aziraphale vehemently as he pulled back to look Crowley in the eyes.

His eyes were drawn back to the collar where he read “#354-174 OWNED BY AZIRAPHALE” etched in the metal. Crowley. Marked. With his name. Identified by a number. His slave. Retching violently, Aziraphale ran for the nearest wastepaper basket, kneeling in front of it as the contents of his stomach threatened to exit his body.

He heard Crowley approach him from behind, putting his arms around him as he cried. “Let it out. Just let it all out now because we’ve got to figure out how to make this nightmare bearable for both of us.”

Crowley held him for a few moments before he let go. 

“Let me grab you some water, ok?”

Aziraphale was in no shape to answer and didn’t seem to notice he had even spoken.

Walking away from him, he searched the library. Noticing the kitchenette, the demon headed there. He smiled seeing it was similar to the one in the bookshop, now probably long gone, burned with the rest of Earth. Grabbing a glass from its shelf, he filled it with water and took it back to Aziraphale.

Aziraphale looked up at his approach, noticing for the first time how dangerously thin and haggard Crowley looked. The demon had dark circles under his eyes, his cheeks were hollow and his hands nearly skeletal. He kept himself from bursting into tears again. Crowley was right; they had to start figuring out how to make this work the best they could for them. 

“Here,” Crowley offered him the glass of water. 

“You’re not going to start acting like my servant, Crowley,” said Aziraphale as he took it, gulping down a bit of the water.

“I’m not. I’m acting like your friend.” He sat down beside him, leaning against the counter beside the wastepaper basket. “I’ve had time to make what peace I could with this. Now it’s your turn.”

“I won’t make peace with this, my dear,” Aziraphale replied stubbornly. He slid his hand over to Crowley’s knee, squeezing lovingly. “You’re too thin. We’re going to have to fix that. And you’re going to get a good night’s sleep or two because you look like hell.”

“Well, I did kind of come from there.” The demon smiled at him.

Aziraphale snuck an arm behind him and leaned up against his side, feeling his spine and ribs through his shirt but at least it was him. Crowley’s wing feathers tickled his forearm as the demon laid his head on Aziraphale’s with a sigh. Turning a bit, he kissed the angel’s blond curls, thankful for the chance to touch him again. He thought he was going to spend the rest of eternity rotting away in some prison cell, pulled out once in a while during some celebration marking the victory as an example of the vanquished foe.

“First thing we’re going to do is get you better. It breaks my heart to see how you’ve been treated, my dear. After that, we’re establishing some kind of routine so everyone thinks you’re my servant. Then we’re going to make a plan to leave here.”

“There’s nowhere to go, angel.”

“I hear Alpha Centauri has a few spare planets. Nobody’ll notice us there.” Aziraphale smiled through red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

Crowley smiled back.

“I’m sorry. I should have left with you.”

“Stop, Aziraphale. You’re not going to beat yourself up over this, ok? It’s not the best situation, but since I thought I was going to spend infinity in some prison cell, I much prefer this.”

“Let’s head upstairs. The first thing I’m going to do is feed you.” Aziraphale got to his feet and stuck out a hand. Crowley grabbed it, scrambling to his feet. “Then I’m going to work on those poor wings.”

“They removed my primaries so I can’t fly. You can’t fix those,” said Crowley in a dull tone. 

“How do you feel about invisible primaries?” asked Aziraphale. “They think I came back to their side rather than was thwarted by not finding a receptive body for my spirit. They’re not going to suspect I’d do anything subversive. You wouldn’t have been placed with me if they thought I was going to stir up trouble.”

“I think invisible ones will do just fine,” replied Crowley as they climbed the stairs. 

“I know . . . you still won’t be able to fly because you don’t want to let on you can, but we never really did that much once human technology got to a certain level. But I’m going to make you as whole as possible, my love. It’s the least I can do after all you’ve been through. Then we’re getting out of here. Oh dear, I’m babbling again.”

He opened the door to the first-floor flat in which he had recreated the upstairs living space in his bookshop as a reminder of home. He used the kitchen and lounge, sometimes the bathroom when he wanted to soak in the tub he enlarged to accommodate his wings. The bedroom’s door remained permanently closed and unused. It was a replica of where he and Crowley loved each other before sleeping the night away in each other’s arms during happier times. He couldn’t dredge up those painful memories.

“What do you want? I can make you anything. Everything’s miracled up right in the fridge and cabinets these days, though. Mostly for the demons to eat, but there are angels who have learned to appreciate food. Few have a job to do anymore with humans gone. They’re all looking for hobbies and some have taken up cooking. A couple have become tailors which makes Gabriel happy. Me, too, because I don’t have to listen to that idiot complain about the lack of nice clothing.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve had anything to eat, angel,” Crowley said. “Better keep it simple. I don’t want to be throwing it up.”

Aziraphale settled on chicken just seasoned with salt and pepper with some vegetables. Crowley sat at the kitchen table while Aziraphale chopped vegetables and got the chicken cooking. He refused to allow the demon to help, insisting that he take it easy.

“I’m not an invalid. I can help out,” Crowley asserted. 

“No. You’ve been through a lot. Let me do this for you.”

“And you haven’t?”

“I assure you I’ve had the better end of this deal,” retorted Aziraphale as he dumped what he had cut up into the steamer basket placed over boiling water. “You always have taken care of me. Now it’s my turn to take care of you.”

“What is there to drink? I can at least put that out.”

“Water, fruit juices, tea, coffee, milk and some other dairy-based things, and that’s about it. Don’t ask for alcohol because it doesn’t exist anymore. The Council decided that would just cause too much trouble.”

“Never could get a decent drink in Heaven.” Crowley was up rooting through the refrigerator. “And there’s not even bottled water. Figures.” 

The demon wobbled a bit. Aziraphale left the cooker to guide him back to the table, miracling up a glass of juice. “Here, sit down and drink this. I suspect you’re extremely low on sugars and that little bit of tea you drank only went so far.”

“Do you have body now?” Crowley asked out of the blue as he sipped the juice. “I’m sorry. I can’t tell without my powers’ ability to sense it. Up here everyone feels the same, body or not.”

“Yes, I do. Most have bodies since we needed them for . . . well . . . you know. Some refused and ran things up here, like war strategies and healing. I had to get back down there. To try to find you.”

Unexpectedly Crowley was behind him, embracing him, turning him around and almost backing him against the fridge. His mouth was on the angel’s, kissing him as he tangled his hands in his curly hair. He could taste salt as they kissed but he was unsure if the tears were his or Aziraphale’s. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. 

They embraced until Aziraphale could no longer ignore the chicken which was starting to burn there in its pan. He got back to the cooker to finish dinner after firmly putting the glass of juice back in Crowley’s hand and telling him to drink it all.

They sat eating in silence, just enjoying each other’s company. Crowley was so ravenous he would have had a hard time holding a conversation while shoveling food into his mouth. Aziraphale watched him, heartbroken. How could they do that to him? To any living creature?

Crowley looked up at him, having eaten everything in front of him. “Sorry about the body question out of nowhere. I just wanted to know if you were able to leave here. Head to Alpha Centauri if that’s really the plan.”

“Ready and able, my dear. I don’t care where we go. We’re not staying here,” the angel replied. “You gave me a reason to go. We’re not remaining some place where you’re treated as nothing more than my pet. I don’t own you. I _won’t_ own you.”

He put the remaining bit of chicken and vegetables on Crowley’s plate. 

“Well the fact of the matter is you do. And if there are others around, you need to act like it just like I need to act like a slave if we’re going to fly under the radar and not look like we’re up to something.” Crowley speared a few vegetables on his fork.

“I know,” replied Aziraphale in a tone that said he was not going to be happy even pretending those roles.

~*~*~

It was bittersweet to be sleeping once again in a bed with Crowley beside him. He had to expand it a bit with a miracle to accommodate their wings, an action he did out of Crowley’s sight because of the guilt he felt at being able to use magic when the demon could not.

It was wonderful feeling his warmth against him again but it was interrupted by the sharp feel of his ribs and collarbones against Aziraphale’s arms and the rough touch of scabs and scars picked up somewhere along the way. Crowley wasn’t up to being open about where he got those wounds. Then there were the wings he could not yet return primaries to because they needed a lot of care before he could safely use a miracle to encourage the growth of feathers. 

But he was here and Aziraphale would do everything in his power to keep him safe. He spent thousands of years not being ready to reciprocate when Crowley protected and cared for him. Now he was more than ready and he would make sure Crowley was the one protected and cared for. He would not lose him again.

The demon jerked violently in his sleep, letting out a low moan as his face twisted into a grimace. Aziraphale pulled him closer, curling wings as well as arms around him, giving him reassuring kisses even though he wasn’t awake. Crowley reached out unconsciously, clawing for the angel until Aziraphale took his arm and settled it across his own chest, rolling over a bit so he could hold Crowley’s arm there against him, assuring his troubled mind he was no longer alone.

“Shhh. I’m here now, my dear. I’m not going anywhere. I won’t let them hurt you anymore.”

Crowley’s thrashing quieted to stillness as Aziraphale held him tightly for the rest of the night.

Crowley awoke staring at the clock, which registered 8:26AM. Panicked, he flew out of bed, down the stairs where he knelt on the floor, looking down, hands on his thighs, trembling slightly.

“I’m sorry, master. I must have forgotten to set my alarm. It won’t happen again.” There was a desperate edge to his voice, as if he wanted to avoid any kind of punishment for sleeping in.

He heard footsteps approach him and felt a hand on his chin. His head was tilted so that he was looking up into Aziraphale’s concerned face. The angel knelt in front of him taking his head in both his hands. 

“Crowley, it’s me,” he said gently. “You’re safe here. I don’t expect you to get up at any certain time, nor am I going to punish you for anything. I love you and you have as much autonomy here as I can grant you in this terrible situation.”

Slowly the automatic response of the brutal training he endured dissipated as he focused on Aziraphale’s face and words. Never was there a more beautiful person in his world. He leaned forward to hug the angel, fighting to keep the tears from coming. Instead he clung to Aziraphale, concentrating on the softness of his skin and the silkiness of his wing feathers as his curls tickled his cheek. He turned his head slightly to kiss his neck.

“Let’s go back upstairs. I was just putting a note on the door saying the library will be closed a while because I’m training a new slave,” said Aziraphale, the words clearly distasteful to him. “It’ll give us some privacy so you can adjust and I can heal you.”

Aziraphale stood up, holding out his hand to help Crowley up. The demon smiled his thanks as he scrambled to his feet. The angel was dressed for the day. Crowley had raced downstairs in his panic in just his black pyjama bottoms, bare chested and barefoot. Suddenly he felt as vulnerable as he probably looked. 

Just as suddenly he wanted to put a shirt on with enough of neck to hide that collar.

“I’m sorry, angel,” he said as they entered the flat. 

“Don’t be. Do not ever be, all right?” Aziraphale soothed. “I just wish you’d tell me what happened to you.”

“I will when I can. I’m not ready for that yet.”

“I understand.” Aziraphale dropped it, although this morning’s outburst of panic and fear worried him. What sort of horrors did they inflict upon Crowley while he was being held captive?

Crowley had seated himself on the couch in the lounge, eyeing the television dubiously. “So, what offerings does Heaven have for entertainment? _The Sound of Music_?”

Aziraphale winced. “Yes. And nothing else worth watching. I stick to my books. We’ll have to find some kind fun for you or you’re going to get bored cooped up here. I won’t have you out running errands where other angels can abuse you. I’ve seen what they do to the captive demons.”

Crowley didn’t want to be out there anyway. He knew what happened. They had had him run errands while being trained, knew verbal and physical abuse of the slaves did occur. He’d been quite the target of it himself, given his involvement in Eden and with the Apocalypse.

“Do you have astronomy books? I can help plan.”

“I do. Do you want to start researching a route to Alpha Centauri? You could also map likely good candidates among the planets, maybe?”

Crowley smiled a knowing smile. “I already have a route, but I planned it in rather a hurry, so I’ll look for other, better ones.”

“I’ll get some breakfast going. You take it easy. Would you like some eggs, my dear?” Aziraphale smiled in return, trying to concentrate on the good rather than Crowley’s visible ribs and many wounds in various stages of healing.

“Eggs would be great,” he replied. “And you know, it won’t hurt me to help out around here. It’ll give me things to do while you’re busy in the library. I imagine it would help our act if I also occasionally assisted you down there.”

“No. It’ll put you in contact with other angels. I won’t have it.” Aziraphale was getting out a pan to fry the eggs in. It banged loudly on the cooker as he took his irritation out on it.

Crowley was behind him, holding him the best he could with a giant pair of white wings in the way. “You can only protect me so much before it looks suspicious. I can take a bit of haughty attitude from some angels if playing their stupid game means we’re left alone to do our planning. They’re not going to get physical with me while I’m under your watch.”

“Crowley . . .”

“Aziraphale . . . this is just an extreme version of what I did on Earth. Do something once in a while and fake it the rest of the time. We _have _to. If Gabriel suspects a thing, I get taken away from you and you might end up arrested yourself.” Crowley stroked Aziraphale’s warm, snow-white feathers. “Stop thinking with the good portion of yourself and start thinking with the bastard part. You’ve got enough bastard in you to make this work. Keep our goal in mind, ok?”

Aziraphale loved having his wings caressed. He relaxed under Crowley’s ministrations. “All right. You win. Now let me cook breakfast so I can work on your cuts. Then I’m doing another session with your wings.”

Mid-morning there was a knock on the door, followed by Gabriel’s yells asking Aziraphale to let him in. Crowley started trembling and retreated to the bedroom. Aziraphale shot a concerned look that direction, but could not take a moment to calm him. He had to see what his boss wanted. Opening the door with a smile plastered on his face, he let Gabriel in.

“So,” said Gabriel. “How are things going? My reports indicate a lot of healing miracles coming from you.”

Inwardly nervous, Aziraphale did his best to act nonchalant about it. He gestured dismissively. “Oh, I’ve been healing some wounds on Crowley and fixing up his wings so they look nice. I know . . . no healing the primaries. Don’t want him flying off or anything. I’m going to have him helping out in the library sometimes. I simply can’t have a ragged-looking demon shelving books. It’s just not proper around patrons.”

“True. True. Is he behaving?” Gabriel asked. “He was quite a handful when he was captured. Very stubborn and rather mouthy, but our trainers were able to get him under control. I’m sorry they had to leave such damage on him, but they needed to get him to cooperate somehow.”

Aziraphale swallowed hard before the urge to throw up overtook him again. “I guess you do what you have to. He’s been very well-behaved. It was nice of you to stop by, Gabriel, but I’m afraid I should get back upstairs. I was in the middle of a training session and I’d probably better return to it. Demons, you know . . .”

He tried his best to look apologetic about cutting things short. Gabriel seemed to buy it. 

“Very understandable. Just let Celion know if you have any trouble with him.”

Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief once the door shut again. Quickly he headed up to the bedroom to find Crowley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning quote -- _ Come With Me_ by Chxrlotte. It's a _Good Omens_ fan song. Go find it on YouTube if you haven't heard it!


	3. Adjusting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Aziraphale pulled back with a gasp when he felt the echoes of some of Crowley’s memories from his captivity, filled with things he thought would never happen in Heaven. How could they be so cruel? His sky blue eyes were filled with sympathy for his demon. Crowley managed a small sad smile in return._
> 
> _“No . . .”_
> 
> _“Afraid so, angel. This place isn’t a bastion of goodness and angels given complete power over another being will do almost anything.”_
> 
> Aziraphale finds out the extent of Crowley's injuries (nothing sexual despite how this blurb sounds). Heaven's bureaucracy continues to keep an eye on him and his ability to keep a slave.

_Pain has an element of blank;  
It cannot recollect  
When it began, or if there were  
A day when it was not._

The demon had put on a pyjama shirt and was sitting on the bed with his knees pulled up to his chest. He looked up at Aziraphale, who joined him. 

“Hell already had me in chains that nullified my powers when I was taken by Heaven. They acted like they captured me in battle instead of finding me among the angels taken prisoner awaiting my fate as a traitor.”

Aziraphale just listened, holding his hand while giving him his full attention. 

“They dragged me through Heaven’s streets behind a horse. I didn’t know they had animals in up here, but beside the point. Had a big old parade like I was some kind of vanquished foe rather than just another prisoner they were handed when they captured that particular camp,” Crowley continued. “The Serpent of Eden. Most hated demon after Satan because I got you lot and the humans kicked out of Eden’s paradise then tried to thwart the War. They argued back and forth while the fighting was still going on about whether I was slave material or if I should be done away with in some public execution. Luckily for us they decided eternal torment was preferable than sending me off to a state of nonbeing.”

It was quite a while before Aziraphale finally spoke. “I didn’t know you were captured. I stayed down on Earth looking. Probably better that way, really. I would have done something foolish that would have probably gotten us both killed.”

Crowley smiled at him. “Well, at least they decided you deserved me since you worked so hard thwarting my devious wiles on Earth.”

They both laughed at that, sitting there a while leaning on each other and feeling the comfort of being together again, even if the circumstances were not the best. Aziraphale finally patted Crowley’s knee, sliding off the bed.

“Come on, my dear. Let me examine you more thoroughly, do another session of healing then I’d bet you like to take a shower. Mine works.” Aziraphale blushed slightly. “I got used to taking an occasional bath on Earth.”

Crowley scooted to the edge of the bed, feet hanging over it. Aziraphale stood in front of him.

“May I?”

“Yes. Why do you ask when I could have easily objected when you expressed your intentions?”

Aziraphale regarded him solemnly. “Because I know you haven’t had control over what’s happened to you since everything fell apart. I think it’s important that I don’t take liberties with you. You deserve what freedoms I can give you right now.”

He placed his hands on the sides of Crowley’s head before he got emotional again, preparing to read for injuries. Crowley mournfully closed his eyes.

_You’re not going to like what you find_, Aziraphale heard through the connection between them. _But maybe you need to know._

There came a flood of information on Crowley’s health at him and Aziraphale did his best to hold it together. Badly healed broken bones, including an arm, a leg, a cheekbone, fingers and ribs. A lacerated liver that was festering inside of him. Bruised kidneys. Cuts and bruises everywhere, some deep and only half-healed. Evidence of several concussions. Torn ligaments. Scars from where shackles rubbed the skin off his wrists and ankles. Damaged muscles. A dislocated wing snapped back into place badly and partially healed. Some of the more delicate wing bones were outright shattered. 

Aziraphale pulled back with a gasp when he felt the echoes of some of Crowley’s memories from his captivity, filled with things he thought would never happen in Heaven. How could they be so cruel? His sky blue eyes were filled with sympathy for his demon. Crowley managed a small sad smile in return.

“No . . .”

“Afraid so, angel. This place isn’t a bastion of goodness and angels given complete power over another being will do almost anything.”

“Bastards!” Aziraphale’s hands flew up to undo Crowley’s collar. “No more.”

Crowley quickly grabbed his angel’s hands, folding them into his own. 

“You can’t do that and you know it,” he said gently, looking into Aziraphale’s eyes, which were shining with hurt on his behalf. “We’re playing the long game here, angel. What happened is over. Nobody’s going to hurt me again because I’m with you. And when anything I went through gets to me, I promise I will talk to you about it.”

“I hope you do. You can’t keep all this pent up like that. You should have told me, my love. We need to work through this together.”

Aziraphale had the suspicion Crowley was pushing all his psychological trauma to the back burner to concentrate on getting out of Heaven. He wasn’t sure that was healthy.

For the next three hours, Aziraphale worked on Crowley’s hurts, healing him until he was exhausted from the drain on his power. But when he finally had to give up because he could give no more, only a few scars remained on Crowley. Nothing that couldn’t be taken care of in a couple of days’ time when Aziraphale was back at full power again. He had even grown back in Crowley’s primaries, giving him all the time he needed to gaze upon and preen them before turning them invisible. 

Crowley felt whole again. When they vanished his primaries, they vanished an important part of him despite it being just feathers that disappeared. It was like he had had parts of his fingers removed. Although he was a demon who spent most of his time of Earth with his wings hidden and unused, they still remained a vital portion of him. He felt a sense of peaceful completeness about having them back, even if they had to remain invisible and he could not let on he was able to fly.

“Thank you, angel. Here, you need to lie down for a bit,” Crowley had guided Aziraphale back to the bed, helping him into it. He curled up beside his angel, savouring everything about him as he buried his face in his blond curls and getting as much skin-on-skin contact as possible. “You smell good and you feel so soft, as mad as that is to say. But where I was there wasn’t anything worth touching or smelling and you don’t know how you miss it until it’s gone.”

“It feels wonderful to be able to touch you again,” Aziraphale murmured drowsily.

“Get some sleep. I’ll stay here with you.” Crowley kissed him tenderly. 

Aziraphale curled up closer to Crowley before contentedly dozing off. If he could just keep his mind off that horrible collar and Crowley’s extensive injuries, he could almost pretend this was just like their time on Earth.

Three days later, Aziraphale reluctantly reopened the library when he really just wanted to get Crowley back to good health then plan on getting out of here. At least there wasn’t much traffic coming through, just his regular patrons since he wasn’t the only bookworm of an angel out there. Plus there were a few others who had taken up researching the history of the Rebellion and/or were now were writing their versions of the most recent War who came to look up information now and again. Others were just plain authoring other things, such as spell books or ones based on their chosen hobby.

He heard the library branch over in the human souls’ part of Heaven got a lot more business, therefore; was thankful Gabriel hadn’t assigned him that one. He really didn’t feel like dealing with crowds of people, especially now with subversive plans in the works. 

Crowley stayed upstairs for now. Aziraphale didn’t want him helping out in the library until he was more healed. A few days wasn’t enough to put the weight he needed to back on. The demon was going to be painfully thin for a while despite all the eating Aziraphale insisted he do.

When nobody was around, he’d bolt upstairs to quickly check on Crowley. Crowley would roll his eyes and told him to quit worrying; nothing was going to happen to him now. Aziraphale worried anyway due to Crowley’s pent-up emotions about recent events.

Gabriel had wandered in again to see how things were going, Aziraphale became quite put out with the constant interruptions from his nosy boss. Why couldn’t Gabriel leave things be? Finally putting two and two together, he figured out Gabriel was trying his best to integrate Aziraphale back into Heaven’s society. It would look bad if one of his employees couldn’t properly adjust. Aziraphale tried to appear more cheerful upon this realization, hoping it would convince Gabriel he was readjusting to life in Heaven so he’d leave him alone.

“You don’t have him out shelving books or anything?” Gabriel asked.

“I’ll be teaching him to work in here and run errands eventually. Right now I have him doing my housekeeping,” said Aziraphale. “I just can’t give up food, it seems, and he is a rather good cook. He also keeps my books and notes organized. Cleans up the messes I leave around. It’s been very helpful.”

“Good to know he’s learned his place and isn’t giving you any trouble.” Gabriel clapped him on the shoulder before heading back out.

“His place is free,” muttered Aziraphale angrily under his breath. “Not collared with clipped wings and all the trauma you people caused him.”

He really couldn’t wait to get out of here.

~*~*~

Crowley handed a sheet of paper covered in scribblings and calculations to Aziraphale who looked it over, trying to understand. He was sitting on the couch in the lounge doing figures. He’d been there all afternoon. Evening was starting to creep up on them as even Heaven was divided between day and night to give its inhabitants a sense of time passing.

“I don’t know if we’re too small and light to do it, but we might be able to use the gravity of Earth to slingshot ourselves in the right direction. We can also travel at the speed of light since physics doesn’t apply to us so it’ll take less time to get there than if we had to use human means. It’s going to be a long trip, though. About four years.”

“And we can do this without harm to our bodies or spirits?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Yes. Space is part of the physical plane. I was up there creating celestial bodies at one time,” Crowley replied. “Never had any problem, although we’ll need to shield against radiation.”

Aziraphale nodded, surprised that Crowley let go of some information about his time as an angel, but he kept his mouth shut about it. Now was not the time or place to get him to open up about his past, especially since he once again sat in Heaven and not under the best circumstances.

“I hear they’re starting to rebuild Earth, but I have no idea what they’re going to do with it. I thought about volunteering to return if they’re going to station angels down there. It’ll make escape easier,” Aziraphale said. “But it might take them years to get anything done. I wish I knew a timeline, to be honest. We can’t wait years.”

“What are our other options?” Crowley asked, tapping his pen on the coffee table.

“We can see if the lift in the Head Offices still works. Or we can find an excuse to go to the border and fly off into the physical plane,” Aziraphale replied. 

“Heading off to the border might look suspicious and I don’t know about you volunteering to go back to Earth,” Crowley rubbed the back of his neck, careful to avoid touching the collar he hated so much.

“I know,” Aziraphale got up to head to the kitchen. “The lift’s our best bet if it’s working, really. And the most risky. It’ll be easy to get caught in those hallways.”

“We have time to figure it out,” called Crowley from the lounge. “It’s not like we have to leave tomorrow. We’re doing this on our schedule, so don’t put pressure on yourself, ok?”

“Yes, but . . .” stammered Aziraphale as he thought about what to do for dinner. 

A bottle distracted him momentarily. He picked it up, shook out a vitamin pill and took it with a glass of water into the lounge. Crowley looked up from more scribblings and an open book on astronomy as he entered. His eyes lighted on the glass, his hand putting the pen down to accept the pill. He gave Aziraphale a cynical smile.

“A demon who takes vitamins . . .”

“You’re deathly thin, my dear. You need them badly,” replied Aziraphale. “If you were human, I believe you wouldn’t be among us. I’m surprised you managed to cling to your body, although I’m glad you did.”

“Death doesn’t exist anymore. He was vanquished along with the rest of the Horsemen. I heard while I was rotting away in Heaven’s dungeons. They stopped threatening me with execution and started threatening me with an extremely horrible existence. Just everlasting life, no matter how crappy it gets,” said Crowley. “We’re all stuck in our corporations now.”

The angel just looked disturbed. Crowley decided to drop any further discussion on the subject, swallowing the vitamin Aziraphale brought him instead.

Aziraphale headed back to the kitchen to throw something together that would help Crowley gain weight back. He wished the internet still existed so that he could research what foods helped with that. But it didn’t, so he muddled along with what he knew from overhearing conversations in his bookshop and the little bit of research he did on food. Little did he know he should have done more since restaurants didn’t exist in Heaven. 

_I remember red meat being good for weight gain. And rice. Milk for calcium. He needs that after all those broken bones since he can’t use his powers to keep everything healthy. _

But he burned the beef the spell on the fridge conjured up and the rice was rather soggy. Soft footfalls approached as he stood there looking at the mess. Crowley put a hand on his shoulder.

“Just miracle it right.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you can’t!”

He turned to look into Crowley’s eyes which were brimming with tears. “Oh, angel . . . Don’t worry about me, ok? I’ll be fine. Don’t sacrifice on my behalf.”

But Aziraphale was throwing it out, heading to the cabinets and fridge for fresh stuff. Rice. Beef. Vegetables. Crowley just smiled at him as he tried his best to put together a simple stir fry. This stubborn angel who was going out of his way to not cause him anymore emotional hurt, even when he didn’t have to. He’d long gotten accustomed to angels using their powers around him with wild abandon while he was left powerless. 

It was amazing what you became used to when even hope had left you. 

It was amazing what someone else would do when they loved you.

“Want some help? I did cook a little back on Earth,” Crowley offered. “You need soy sauce, angel. Where will I find that?”

Aziraphale pointed him to the right of the cooker. “Just open a cabinet. It’ll be there.”

Crowley handed him a bottle of it. “Put some in the pan, but not too much, and brown the meat, then once the meat’s brown, you add the vegetables. I’ll get the rice going.”

Once the rice was finished, Crowley dumped it into the pan with the meat, vegetables and a little more soy sauce, stir frying it together while Aziraphale observed, rather amazed Crowley could cook a thing. The demon noticed him watching.

“Don’t get too excited. I only know a few recipes. The rest we’re going to have to figure out.”

“I had no idea you could even boil water,” replied Aziraphale. “You always ate out or had things delivered.”

“Just don’t tell anyone,” Crowley said flippantly. “Once your friends know you cook, suddenly they’re wanting to be invited to your house and it just gets to be a pain in the arse. I can’t be entertaining every night.”

Aziraphale laughed, the sound music to Crowley’s ears. He thought he’d never hear that laugh again.

Holding on to that warm feeling, he plated the food and put it on the table, making sure he took the plate with more on it. Aziraphale would just switch the plates around if he didn’t. Sitting down, he dug in, his partner sliding into the chair across from him. This could almost be like home. Almost. A pang of homesickness for an Earth that lay in ruins hit him. The bookshop. The Bentley. All their usual haunts. All destroyed. He closed his eyes for a moment.

“What happens to Earth now?”

“It’s partially Adam’s realm. Tadfield wasn’t destroyed nor were any of the people Adam loves. A handful of humans still exist there, closed off from the rest of the world,” said Aziraphale. “I don’t know more than that because we’re not allowed even near Tadfield. He shut us out.”

“And the rest of the world?” asked Crowley. “What’s up with it?”

“Burned.” Aziraphale picked at his stir fry. “Not a thing left of it. There’s talk of rebuilding it and allowing angels to reside there. There’s hope God will eventually come back to rebuild the human race. I don’t know why. Maybe they want to develop a perfect human race.”

“One without free will, right?” Crowley’s lip curled up in disgust. “I wasn’t sure at first, but I figured out I did the right thing with the apple. I’m also sure it’s exactly what the Almighty wanted to happen. What’s the point of creating another race without free will? She already had that in the angels and we can see how well _that _worked out.”

“I still don’t know why She didn’t step in,” Aziraphale said in slightly haunted tones.

Crowley dropped the subject, not wanting to upset him further. “You did pretty good with this. We’ll get this cooking thing figured out.”

The angel nodded, but he was looking at the metal collar about Crowley’s throat. Dinner was pretty quiet after that.

After dinner they sat together on the couch, Aziraphale reading one of the few books he managed to save from Earth (everything in his library was penned by angels, the human souls had their own books in their branch, but he wasn’t authorized to be in that area of Heaven), Crowley thumbing through books on astronomy, finding other stars with potential planets as backups. He noticed that Aziraphale cuddled particularly close to him as if he couldn’t touch him enough. If this was what bringing up the War did to Aziraphale, he decided just to remain silent on it. The angel apparently went through more than he was willing to let on. 

~*~*~

Aziraphale wrung his hands as he attempted to ease his anxiety about leaving the library. About leaving Crowley alone. Taking some deep breaths, he closed his eyes and tried to will his heart into not beating as fast.

“This is ridiculous. I don’t need to breathe. Or have a heartbeat,” he muttered to himself.

But he had to go. Crowley had been with him two weeks now and Celion wanted to meet with him to discuss how everything was going. Aziraphale had to prepare himself to go lie through his teeth to an angel who outranked him about how meek, submissive and well-behaved his new slave was. How he wasn’t causing any trouble. How he was doing his assigned chores wonderfully. And hope Celion didn’t want to come over to inspect Crowley. Crowley didn’t need his prime torturer coming over to re-traumatize him.

“It’s a good thing I groomed your wings last night, angel.” 

Crowley’s voice surprised him, causing him to jump. He turned around to see the demon standing in the doorway of the bedroom, watching him.

“You are entirely too quiet,” the angel commented. “Please don’t startle me like that.”

“Stop worrying about this. Like you haven’t spent forever lying to Gabriel.” Crowley took one of Aziraphale’s hands and brought it up to his lips to kiss it. “Just don’t act nervous and don’t get emotional when you talk about me, ok?”

Aziraphale took those words with him as he headed over to Celion’s office for his meeting. He was told it was standard procedure for all owners of newly placed slaves, although Aziraphale heartily wished that Heaven’s bureaucracy would just leave them alone for a while. This constant checking up on him was getting ridiculous. 

The receptionist waved him on through upon his stating his name. Aziraphale headed back, knocking tentatively on the open door before the tall, black-haired angel jovially welcomed him in, offering him a seat in a brown leather chair before his enormous desk.

“It’s nice to meet you Aziraphale,” he said as he took a seat behind it. “You were our field agent on Earth, right?”

“Yes. I was there from the beginning to end,” Aziraphale replied, trying his best to keep emotions in check. 

Celion nodded. “It must have been hard to see it all end, even though that was the Plan.”

“It was. You do get attached to a place after all that time,” replied Aziraphale, his hands tightening slightly on the arms of his chair. He caught himself doing that and promptly put them in his lap.

“I bet it was. . . Anyway, how are things going with your slave? Who did you get?” Celion took a moment. “Oh, yes . . . 354-174 . . . Hell’s field agent.” He chuckled, looking up from his notes. “What a feeling of vindication after all the trouble he caused, am I right?”

_Oh, just be quiet, you pompous idiot_, Aziraphale seethed to himself, tired of all this. “Actually it came as quite the surprise when Gabriel brought him by my place. I figured he had managed to get himself executed by Hell before they were defeated since he was playing his own little game.” There, that was actually honest, presented in manner that agreed with Celion’s point of view. He could do this.

“If I remember correctly, he was a tough nut to crack, so to speak. Rather stubborn and spent a lot of time mouthing off if not gagged. I instructed our guards to keep him chained in hopes the restraint would remind him he’s not in charge. When that didn’t work, we resorted to daily beatings to finally knock the fight out of him,” Celion continued. “He was gentle as a lamb after that and some near-starving. How’s he doing for you?”

Aziraphale pushed down the sick feeling that was again creeping up on him, concentrating on answering in the most blasé manner possible. “He is behaving himself, but I imagine after that kind of treatment, he’s going to do his best to stay on my good side to avoid more of it. He did get a little sarcastic at first, but after some sharp words from me, he settled down. I’m training him to do my housework and after he’s mastered that, I’ll start training him to help out in the library if it is needed.”

There. He said what Celion wanted to hear. Maybe now he’d be allowed to return home. He didn’t like leaving Crowley alone and unprotected by him in an environment that amounted to enemy territory. 

“Good. Good. Glad to hear he’s settling in and you’re able to control him. I might stop by sometime to see how he’s doing for myself.”

Aziraphale hid his worry behind a smile. “Gabriel already has a couple of times. He was quite pleased with the progress I’m making with him.”

Celion stood up. “Then I won’t make it a priority. Have a good day, Aziraphale.”

Rising from his chair, Aziraphale bid him good day as well, anxious to get back to Crowley. 

He returned home to find Crowley was keeping water hot for cocoa for him. The demon put on a pot of coffee for himself, letting that brew while preparing Aziraphale a mug of cocoa. The angel gave him a disapproving look as he settled down in a kitchen chair.

“I can get you things of my own free will, so get that sour look off your face,” said Crowley as he brought cocoa and coffee to the table. “How did it go?”

Tears sprung up in Aziraphale’s eyes. “I wish you’d talk to me, my dear. He didn’t go into detail, thank goodness, but he told me how they treated you.”

Crowley stiffened as Aziraphale spoke. “I can’t, angel. It’s still too raw for me to deal with, let alone bring up to another person, even if that person’s you.” He gave him a solemn look. “I promise I will when I can speak of it.”

Aziraphale nodded, knowing he’d have to wait. But he knew he’d get the story eventually because Crowley had never broken a promise he’d made to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poem quote -- _Pain Has an Element of Blank_ by Emily Dickinson


	4. Instances of Resistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel shows up unannounced when Aziraphale is out running errands. Meanwhile, things are not as peaceful in Heaven as everyone would like to believe. Finally, Crowley has a scar in the shape of his sigil mysteriously show up on the palm of his hand. Is someone trying to tell him something?

_The Warders with their shoes of felt  
Crept by each padlocked door,  
And peeped and saw, with eyes of awe,  
Grey figures on the floor_

They lay in bed, Crowley on his back staring at the ceiling; Aziraphale curled up beside him resting his head on Crowley’s chest. He could hear Crowley’s heart hammering away nervously, feel the tenseness in his muscles as he brushed his fingertips over his arm. The angel tried his best to quiet him through touch but it didn’t help.

“What’s wrong, my love?”

“I can’t handle the nightmares anymore. I just can’t.”

Sadly, Aziraphale knew all too well about Crowley’s nightmares because he soothed the demon back into peaceful sleep several times a week. He brushed a concerned hand through his red hair, kissing his forehead.

“I’m here when you’re ready to talk. Until then I’ll hold you tight whenever they come.”

What he wanted more than anything was to make love to Crowley. To return to former days when they were on Earth when both of them were free to do as they wished without supervisors looking over their shoulders, not suffering from the trauma of war, nor stuck in a power dynamic that further made Aziraphale hesitant about asking for anything more than kisses and embraces from his partner. As much as he wanted to pretend they were equals, they weren’t. Even in the relative freedom of the library there were rules that had to be followed. Crowley couldn’t openly display that he possessed primaries again and that collar had to stay in place, crippling Crowley’s supernatural abilities. 

“Want me to use a miracle to help you out? I can put you into a dreamless sleep,” Aziraphale suggested.

“Please? I need one good night’s sleep once in a while,” Crowley replied, almost begging. He reached up to kiss his lover in thanks. 

“Ready?”

Crowley nodded. Aziraphale touched his fingers to the demon’s temples, watching his eyelids flutter shut as he fell into a deep sleep untouched by nightmares of torture. Choking back another round of tears, the angel laid his head back down on Crowley’s chest, taking strength from a heartbeat that wasn’t frantic and breathing that was slow and steady. At least for tonight Crowley would have a good night’s sleep.

Aziraphale was up and dressed early the next morning, ready to run some errands. He was part of the leadership of Heaven, if only in a minor role, and he had messages he’d answered to deliver to other angels and paperwork to pick up. He pondered taking Crowley with him, just to test out the atmosphere towards the demon, immediately wondering if that would be cruel. Or would keeping him cooped up here without any chances to stretch his legs ever be even crueler? In the end he decided to ask Crowley what he thought about it.

He headed to the kitchen where Crowley was making coffee, startling the demon enough he dropped the mug he was holding on the tile floor where it broke into several pieces. Aziraphale just smiled as Crowley gave him a helpless look. Picking up the mug, he put it on the counter to repair later.

“Don’t worry about that, my dear. Accidents happen.” He grabbed another mug out of the cabinet and poured some of the coffee before handing it to the demon. Then he got himself a cup of it. It wasn’t often he drank coffee, but he didn’t have time to make anything else. “I’m heading out in a few to deliver messages to other angels. Do you want to come with just to stretch your legs? I worry about you getting cabin fever staying cooped up in here all the time.”

Crowley froze like a deer in headlights as the dread of what might happen out there filled him. He took a moment to collect himself, finally shaking his head. “No. I think I’ll be fine here. You go on ahead and don’t worry about me.”

Aziraphale finished his coffee, giving Crowley a kiss before he left. “I don’t trust Celion to not show up sometime here. Keep the books and notes hidden when I’m not home. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” 

“I’ll be fine. Go.”

Crowley did the washing up while Aziraphale was out. Putting some music on Aziraphale’s phonograph, he lost himself in Mozart’s sonatas, the bubbles and the heat of the water which he found soothing on his hands. There was not much to do, mostly his breakfast dishes since Aziraphale didn’t eat before leaving. He rinsed the soap off and set them in the drying rack, then went to get a towel to dry them with out of the cupboard in the hallway. 

The record had just ended when he heard someone come into the library. Aziraphale had forgotten to lock the door.

“Aziraphale?” 

Crowley’s heart leapt into his throat. That was Gabriel’s voice. Crowley’s hands shook. They had planned for this. It wasn’t a plan he wanted to implement, but it would keep him safe. 

Quietly rushing to the second bedroom, which had been set up like slave quarters, he went over to the wall where a metal ring held a chain. Below it was a dog bed-like pad. Flipping the pad over, he pulled out a padlock and quickly locked the chain to the ring on his collar, sitting himself down on the pad. 

Slaves were required to be caged or chained in the house when their owners weren’t home. 

Trying not to react to being chained to the wall, Crowley curled up in a ball, legs tight against his chest, head laying on his knees. He took some deep breaths, attempting to calm his trembling as footsteps came up the stairs. Of course Gabriel was not going to respect Aziraphale’s privacy. Why would he?

There was a knock on the door to the flat. “Aziraphale? Are you home?”

Gabriel opened the door, entering the sitting room. Crowley could hear him walking through to the kitchen. The demon shrank further into himself, panic threatening to take over. 

_Breathe. He can’t do anything to you. That would violate the Slave Code._

Only a slave’s owner could punish them inside their own home. 

Doors were opened. 

“A bedroom and bathroom. He really hasn’t gotten over Earth yet, has he?” Gabriel muttered. “Next time it might be better to have rotating emissaries if humans are recreated.” 

Crowley looked up as the door to his room opened. Gabriel stood there in his soft grey suit smirking down at him. The captive demon did his best to look blandly back at him despite his heart pounding in his chest.

“Good,” said Gabriel with approval. “I was worried he was going to be too soft on you but I see he’s following the rules. How is he treating you?”

“He treats me well. He hasn’t had to yell at me too much,” replied Crowley, trying to keep emotion out of his voice.

“You forgot something, slave.”

“Sir,” muttered Crowley, brought low by the reminder of his true status in this world.

“You’re not giving him any trouble, are you?”

“No, sir. Master Aziraphale is kind to me as long as I listen and do what he tells me to.”

“I hope he doesn’t treat you like a colleague. I know you two have a history.” The tone was threatening. Did Gabriel assign him to Aziraphale to try to trip up the Principality?

“He doesn’t, sir. He treats me like a servant. I do the housework. If I’m good, he allows me to read for a little bit. If I don’t get my work done, I spend the next day chained in here as punishment.” Crowley hoped he didn’t ask too many more questions. He was running out of script but was too panicked to think quickly on the fly.

“Rewards, huh.” Gabriel seemed rather confused by that concept. “Well, Aziraphale always was rather soft which is why he listened to you for a while. But if it works, it works. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar, I guess.” The Archangel chuckled. “Oh, this visit is our little secret. If I find out you told Aziraphale, I will transfer you to the cruelest angel I can find. Understand, slave?”

Crowley swallowed hard. “I understand, sir.”

Gabriel left. Crowley collapsed into the fetal position sobbing until he fell into an uneasy sleep. 

He awoke to Aziraphale shaking him awake with a concerned look on his face. “Crowley, dear? What happened? Why are you in here?”

The angel was removing the chain, which Crowley could also remove himself when danger had passed. A key was stuffed up in the pad in the same place the padlock was kept. Aziraphale dropped the chain to the side, stuffed the other hardware back up in the pad then helped Crowley to his feet.

“Let’s go somewhere more comfortable. Bed or couch?”

“Couch’ll do.”

Crowley relayed everything to him, including Gabriel’s threat. Aziraphale fumed upon hearing that as he sat there stroking Crowley’s hair to calm him. He pulled the distressed demon closer, coaxing him into laying down with his head in his lap.

“It will be all right, my dear. Gabriel will not find out that you told me this. He didn’t even come here to talk to you. He has some paperwork I need to fill out.”

“I want to go,” Crowley murmured almost too quiet to hear. “I want to leave this place.”

“I know, my love. I want out of here, too,” replied Aziraphale gently. “But I’m not risking you to the ravages of space in the condition you’re in. It’s only been a few weeks. You’re still skin and bones. I reckon it’s going to take a few months to get you back to full health.”

There was a moment of silence or two before Crowley broke it.

“I want to make love to you.”

Aziraphale sucked in a breath, not sure how to respond to that. He ached for that intimate contact as well. To hear Crowley bring it up was a small torture. He just bent to kiss Crowley, caressing him as he did so.

“I wrestle with that,” he finally admitted. “As much as I want to ignore it, there’s a power dynamic in play here whether we like it or not and I’m not sure what’s appropriate. I do not want to muddy consent between us.”

“You won’t,” Crowley replied. “There is no power dynamic between us as far as affection goes, no matter what other rules we have to play along with until we get out of this hellish version of Heaven. I trust nothing has changed and if I say no, then you’ll stop because you’re the same old Aziraphale no matter what role they try to saddle you with.”

“Let’s compromise. You lead. You be the one to ask and determine what we’re going to do. I give you the power so I cannot take advantage of it,” Aziraphale said.

“If that will make you more comfortable, then it’s a deal.” Crowley sat up so he could start seducing his angel. “But just this time. Sometimes I like being asked and you having the lead.”

It wasn’t long before they ended up in the bedroom, Aziraphale letting Crowley take the lead just like he said. Emotions ranged from ecstasy to outright sadness with everything in between, but they counted it as a success. Wiping the sweat, a stray feather and tears from each other’s faces, they lay together naked after they both came. Aziraphale was sure Crowley had never embraced him so fiercely before and he had never so appreciated the warm softness of Crowley’s skin before this moment. 

How fate could change everything . . .

~*~*~

Gabriel was sitting in Celion’s office looking over the old Earth observation record photos showing Aziraphale and Crowley meeting over the years. “I don’t know. Did I do the right thing gifting Crowley to Aziraphale? Or did I set an angel who was finally on the right track up for failure?”

Celion smiled back at him. “You absolutely did the right thing,” he said smoothly. “It’s a gift that sends several different messages. It tells him you trust him. That can be a big boost in his confidence that he chose correctly. There’s also nothing like having control over an enemy who almost persuaded you to come to his side. That demon was dangerous. We almost lost the War before it began because of him. Aziraphale will now have an outlet for that anger at almost being taken in by him. And it’s also a very good constant reminder that he’d better keep toeing the line if he doesn’t want to end up like Crowley.”

Gabriel mulled that over. “Very true.”

Celion leaned back in his chair with a pointed look at the Archangel. “If he doesn’t conduct himself appropriately, I know of several angels who would have no qualms about having a Principality as a personal slave.”

He kept his true opinion on that traitor Aziraphale and his serpent slave to himself. 

~*~*~

Aziraphale snapped the soft leather collar over Crowley’s metal one, the demon examining the wide black band in the bathroom mirror, running a finger over it. It completely hid the real one both of them hated so much.

“I know it’s . . . well, it’s not what we really want, but at least we don’t have to look at that horrid number and my name anymore,” the angel said to him. 

“No, it’s fine, angel,” replied Crowley. “You’re doing everything you can in this situation to make things better for me and I do appreciate it.”

He kissed his beautiful angel on the forehead before moving down to his mouth. Aziraphale returned the kisses eagerly.

The new leather collar had the added bonus of being spelled to shield the tracking magic radiating off of Crowley’s real collar. As soon as Aziraphale agreed to him helping in the library to alleviate boredom, they discovered that the radiation of that spell was bleaching out the ink in the books. It was rare that demons came into the library. Most angels left theirs at home when they browsed and ones that came alone did so on errands to pick up requested books, not to hang around for hours. A little exposure wasn’t noticeable; Crowley being in there day in and day out was.

After bringing it up to Gabriel, along with a possible solution, he developed the leather collar with its simple spell to keep that from occurring. Celion had stipulated that the leather collar’s spell could only work if it was touching Crowley’s skin. He wanted to make sure Crowley couldn’t break his real collar off, wrap it in the leather one and have nobody be the wiser that he had removed it. 

Aziraphale agreed to that stipulation because hiding the collar that distressed Crowley and protecting his books was more important right now than worrying about how they were going to eventually get it off without being tracked.

They had only been reunited for a month and a half. Plans were being made and Aziraphale was doing his best to get Crowley back to good health. The demon was filling out, but he still had a long way to go. Aziraphale was also adamant about going about it slowly so not only did they not upset Crowley’s system, but so the weight gain was subtle. He constantly felt like he was being scrutinized by Gabriel thus did not want to appear to be too caring towards Crowley.

Laying his head on Crowley’s shoulder, he hugged the demon tightly wishing this was all some kind of nightmare he’d wake up from to find both of them warm and safe in the bed they shared on Earth.

~*~*~

The stones crashed through the windows of the shops, starting the angels shopping within. Those near the shattering glass ran for cover away from the store fronts, crouching behind shelves and under tables. Footsteps could be heard pounding away down the pavement.

The demons, who were supposed to be running errands for their angel masters, clutched more rocks, ready to hurl them through the next set of shop windows. Stones flew. Glass shattered again. Panic broke out as there had been no violence in Heaven since the Rebellion long ago.

“You sure about this?” one demon asked another who had picked up a couple of more rocks.

That demon nodded. “Yes. Give me your collars and go. I made my peace with this long ago.”

The demon who spoke with them and one other snapped off their collars, handing them over with thanks before escaping down an alley and out of town in to the woods behind it. Beyond the woods was the border they hoped to get over. Earth, destroyed as it was, had to be better than life here. The two of them sprinted off, taking advantage of the chaos to get as far away from town as possible.

In town, the demons who decided to stay behind, kept up their rock throwing until surrounded by law enforcement. Having no other option, they dropped their ammunition and allowed themselves to be arrested. It would buy time for their comrades heading for the border.

They hoped the escaped ones were able to get to Earth then Tadfield to find the Antichrist. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go when Hell’s surrender was negotiated with him as the mediator. All prisoners of war were to be returned and all demons were to be banished to a Hell that would be shut off from Earth and Heaven, exiled, never to rise again. He had to be told Heaven didn’t come close to keeping up their end of the bargain and that Heaven was still holding demons captive. That they were being used as slaves. 

Maybe they could beg the Antichrist to restore things back to how they were before the world ended. Upon retrospect they realized the demon Crowley had been correct – they should have worked to save the world, not end it. Captured and cruelly restrained, the sacrificial demons allowed themselves to be led back to the cells where they were kept before being handed over to their masters. They did not know what fate awaited them there, but if their actions meant a chance for demonkind to be free of slavery, then whatever horrors lay ahead would be well worth it. 

~*~*~

Crowley looked up from the description of a planet he was reading in one of Aziraphale’s astronomy books. The pen he held in his left hand dropped from it numbly, clattering to the kitchen table where his work was spread out. Something didn’t feel right. He breathed a sigh of relief that Aziraphale was down tending to the library as he had enough to worry about without knowing that the demon suddenly had one more thing making him a nervous wreck.

Taking a deep breath, he took a moment to shake off the strange feeling before going back to his research. Concentration was well-nigh impossible, though. Something had changed.

He didn’t notice the light-coloured ghostly figure over in the corner making a gesture in his direction that caused the scar Aziraphale had healed on his left palm to return. Sure that the important mark had returned, the figure disappeared.

Crowley noticed the mark’s reappearance and showed it to Aziraphale when he came up after closing up the library. 

“I thought I healed that,” said the angel as he placed a few astronomy books he snagged from the library stacks on the bookshelf in the lounge. 

“Me, too,” answered Crowley. “But it’s still there. I don’t understand.”

Aziraphale took up his hand, examining his palm. “It looks fresh. Like a brand-new scar that just lost its scab. The one I healed was less red. A touch more faded.” He put a finger on it to redo the healing.

“No. Please, just leave it,” Crowley said, moving his hand out from under Aziraphale’s finger. “I have a weird feeling it’s there for a reason.”

“All right, my dear.” Aziraphale gave him an odd look. “But mind if I ask what it is and where you got it?”

“It’s my name. My signature. But I didn’t put it there because that’s not my writing and I couldn’t sign my sigil with my right hand to save my life. Well, so to speak.” The demon grinned at the misused phrase. “It showed up one day in my cell when I was first brought up to Heaven after a weird dream where you told me to hang on because I wouldn’t be locked up in prison forever. That’s all I remember about it even though you talked to me about something else. Something I shouldn’t forget.”

Aziraphale gazed at the sigil for a long moment before his breath hitched with realization. Picking up the pen from the notepad Crowley had left on the coffee table he copied down the sigil several times. The last time, it was almost identical to the one on Crowley’s palm. 

“That’s my handwriting.”

“What the hell?”

“I don’t know,” Aziraphale said seriously. “I was never in your cell nor did I even know you were alive until almost two months ago. Something’s going on here and we need to figure out what.”

_What if a dream wasn’t truly a dream? _thought Crowley. _But who came into my cell pretending to be Aziraphale? And what did I forget?_

He spent the night trying to recall the exact words that were said to him until exhaustion caused him to fall asleep on Aziraphale’s chest when they finally went to bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning quote -- _The Ballad of Reading Gaol_ by Oscar Wilde


	5. Sometimes You Have to Keep Going

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The angels were using the library to exchange sensitive information. Everyone knew Aziraphale was a gentle soul who would never report anyone to the Department of Information for spreading potentially sensitive gossip. The leadership of Heaven was eager to put forth a vision of Paradise but reality was not all were happy with the situation. Endless Heaven was not rather lovely. Boredom ran rampant, some had started paying close attention to how the slaves were treated and how the Council shut down any speech that didn’t sing their praises._
> 
> Some angels aren't happy, rebellious demons are being punished and our ineffable duo are starting to move forward on their escape plans thinking that future unrest might help cover up their subterfuge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put the wrong chapter name on this. It's been corrected now. Sorry about that!

_“I await your sentence with less fear than you pass it. The time will come when all will see what I see.” _

“Good morning, Aziraphale,” said Janiel cordially as she entered the library. 

No demon slave followed after her. She refused to have one, saying that her position monitoring Earth, the Antichrist and the now-exiled Realm of Hell was too sensitive to have a prisoner of war around. Aziraphale knew she found the practice of slavery as distasteful as he did. She, like everyone else, thought he only accepted Crowley as his slave because Gabriel had basically shoved the demon onto him with no choice. It was a partial truth, at least. He had been given no input in being assigned a slave.

Demon slaves had to wait outside because of the radiation problem with their collars, anyway. Crowley was happy about that. He had no desire to interact with other demons, especially in the current situation, although the chances of him running across anyone he worked closely with in Hell were slim. 

Beelzebub was running an exiled Hell now that Satan was dead. Hastur was killed in battle. Dagon had disappeared, meaning there was a chance she was enslaved, but with seven Circles of Heaven to spread demons across, it was unlikely he would set eyes on her.

“Good morning,” Aziraphale replied with a smile. Janiel was not bad for an angel; Aziraphale was learning to loathe some of his own species.

The library was busy today so Crowley was down to help out and to eavesdrop. There had been some excitement going on in Heaven that the Council was trying to keep hushed up. An extra pair of ears to pick up gossip was helpful.

The angels were using the library to exchange sensitive information. Everyone knew Aziraphale was a gentle soul who would never report anyone to the Department of Information for spreading potentially sensitive gossip. The leadership of Heaven was eager to put forth a vision of Paradise but reality was not all were happy with the situation. Endless Heaven was not rather lovely. Boredom ran rampant, some had started paying close attention to how the slaves were treated and how the Council shut down any speech that didn’t sing their praises.

Janiel made her way to a bookshelf where Samuel was perusing books on crochet, a subject that was definitely not something that would spark his interests. He nodded when he saw her. Information was going to be exchanged, but Aziraphale was too far away to catch what was said. Crowley wasn’t. The demon dropped a book he was shelving on the floor. It hit with a thud and Aziraphale looked his direction.

“Crowley, I shouldn’t have to tell you to be careful,” chided the angel. 

“I’m sorry, sir.”

It was code.

_Want me to listen in?_

_Yes, please._

_Ok, I’m on it._

They changed their signals often so nobody would catch on. 

Crowley’s hearing was particularly sharp. He was far enough away to make the angels feel safe about gossiping, but close enough he could catch what they were talking about. He took his time shelving the books in the section he was in.

“Some of the demons over in the Third Circle tried to revolt. Most were returned to their owners for punishment, but the leaders are being turned into examples to quell any further attempts,” whispered Janiel. 

“They’re not going to be able to contain this forever. Angels are starting to complain about how oppressive the Council is being,” replied Samuel quietly. “I’m afraid of what things are going to come to. I think we made the wrong choice ending the world.”

“What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

Crowley shoved the last book needing reshelving in this section on the shelf, silently pushing the cart of books on to a different part of the stacks. He’d heard all he needed from those two. Aziraphale saw him and nodded. 

Later on when they closed up and Crowley was relaying the bit of information he had collected, Aziraphale looked guiltily at Crowley as he closed up the ledger where he kept track of what had been loaned out. “I keep thinking we need to help with this revolt.”

“No,” replied Crowley firmly. “Both Heaven and Hell wanted their war. Well, they got it. Now let them all live with the consequences. We’re still on our own side here and we should stick to it.”

Aziraphale fidgeted a moment with his threadbare waistcoat. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I know I’m right. I almost lost you thanks to that blasted War. I won’t lose you again.”

“What do we do, then?” Aziraphale was nervously wringing his hands. 

Crowley took them in his own, bringing them up to his lips and placing kisses on Aziraphale’s fingers. “We use the chaos we both know is coming to further our own plan without anyone suspecting a thing.”

He kept quiet about his feelings of premonition that he had gotten earlier in the week. They might not be even remotely related to this incident. A rebellion was to be expected, anyway. Did angels think that demons would take this lying down? They had to know they wouldn’t, even if there was no chance they could actually win their own freedom. They still had to try.

Crowley hoped they kept it up so he and Aziraphale could get their own plans off the ground. The only way to truly win freedom was to leave. 

~*~*~

Heaven was divided into not only seven Circles, but towns within each Circle. Aziraphale and Crowley resided in the First Circle, which was in the center with all the other Circles surrounding it on its borders, like a flower made entirely of discs. Heaven’s capital city of Empyrean was located there and the setup ensured every Circle was the same distance from it. Aziraphale ran the Empyrean library.

All the demons in the Third Circle’s governmental seat were ordered to report to the town square to witness the punishment of the instigators. Rumours flew around Empyrean as to what that would be. Aziraphale and Crowley kept their own ears open in the library trying to figure out what the actual punishment would be and if it would quash the current feelings of rebelliousness or fuel them.

As hushed as the Council tried to keep it, even threatening all the demon slaves of the Third Circle with the same punishment, word got out and eventually found its way to the library. The leaders were imprisoned in tiny cells, left to be forgotten for all eternity. It was the closest that they could get to killing them unless Heaven could convince Adam Young to bring back the Horsemen. 

That particular prospect did not seem likely. Adam had wrapped his little portion of the world up protectively and refused to speak to any Heavenly representatives besides to tell them he wasn’t interested in having them on Earth.

Crowley and Aziraphale waited and watched for the inevitable reaction. Calm settled on Heaven, normal routines returning. Business in the library dropped as angels became too scared to go there to exchange possibly subversive messages.

“It’ll calm down for a while, then pick back up once it’s forgotten about and everyone feels safe,” Crowley was saying as he tasted the marinara sauce he was making for dinner. 

A few of the culinary angels had put together cookbooks, which made putting meals together a lot easier. Reaching around Aziraphale, he pulled some spices out of the cabinet. Aziraphale just stood there looking worried. 

“Does this cut our chances at success?” he asked.

“No. It just means we need to be more careful if everything stays quiet,” Crowley replied. “We still don’t know how we’re getting out of here, remember? You have yet to do any reconnaissance when it comes to the lift or if determining if heading to a border is better.”

“The border might be better now. Getaway cottages are being built out there now. I could get a cottage out by Elysium or one of the other resort towns. Most are at the border and a lot of angels are doing that just to get out of Empyrean once in a while,” replied Aziraphale. “It would mean a lot more planning.” He ticked things off on his fingers. “Looking for a place to get, setting it up, probably holidaying there a few times to set up a routine that won’t set off bells for Gabriel or others. It could take a while longer than the lift.”

“Lift’s so risky, though,” replied Crowley as he stirred the sauce he had just sprinkled more spices in. “Are you going to cook the pasta or what? We can discuss this over dinner.”

Aziraphale agreed as they ate to start looking for available cottages. It extended their time in Heaven, but that might not be a bad idea. It would give the fledging rebellion a chance to regroup, stop being afraid of punishment and start causing trouble again that would distract everyone from one unassuming librarian and his demon.

Crowley headed for the bathroom after dinner, undressing to take a hot bath before settling down for the night. Aziraphale followed, knowing he’d forget his pyjamas in the bedroom. The angel grabbed them, bring them to the bathroom. He paused in the doorway, watching as Crowley took off his black shirt, pulling it over his head.

It was still weird to watch the shirt phase through his large black wings as he pulled it off, but all clothing had a bit of a magical element to it to make dealing with it and wings easier to bear. At least this way it could be put on and taken off without trying to get giant feathered appendages through special holes cut into the backs of items.

No, a little extra time here wouldn’t hurt. Nobody was bothering them anymore and the demon could still use some feeding up before they had to take on the ravages of space. Aziraphale stared at his thin back, noting that while he had filled out some, one could still count his ribs with ease and his spine was too visible for someone who was healthy.

Setting the pyjamas by the sink, Aziraphale approached him. “You forgot them again.” He reached out to scratch between Crowley’s wings as the demon turned his head to look at him.

“Will I need them?” asked Crowley in return, his voice barely above a whisper. “You should join me.”

“I believe I will.”

It was just a bath for it was hard enough to simply fit two of them in the tub when they both had wings, let alone attempt anything more physical, but the touch associated with bathing proved to be good foreplay for both of them. Aziraphale sat in front of Crowley, the demon combing through what wing feathers he could as they relaxed in the hot water. The angel made noises of pleasure at the sensation of Crowley’s fingers tracing downwards through damp feathers, touching clear to the skin beneath. 

“You wanna?” he breathed in Aziraphale’s ear. 

“Yes.”

They got out of the tub, Aziraphale indicating Crowley’s wings. “May I?”

“Yes.” 

The angel miracled both them and his own dry, although the natural oils on wing feathers kept a decent amount of the wetness away. For good measure he miracled away the water on every part of their bodies. It was quicker than trying to towel off. 

Aziraphale wanted to kiss every part of Crowley, despite Crowley’s too-thin state. As the demon lay down on the bed, the angel brushed his lips against his soft skin, starting around his collarbones and slowly moving down to his nipples where he lingered for a while. Teasing them with his tongue, he gently bit them, pressing with enough force to make Crowley moan with lust. Smiling, he went back to licking, running his tongue over one areola then the other, feeling Crowley trace his fingers along his shoulder blades where wings met back. Then he sucked, turning one nipple reddish before moving on to give the other the same treatment. 

“Oh angel, I’ve missed this. I’ve missed touching and being touched by you.” There was a tear on Crowley’s cheek. Aziraphale looked up long enough to lick it away. 

Feeling adventurous, Aziraphale kissed and nibbled his way further down Crowley’s body, heading down to places he rarely went with his mouth. Encouraging Crowley to raise his arse a bit, he covered the area with long slow licks that caused Crowley, now lying with his knees bent, to buck with the touch. 

“Angel?” he panted. “What are you doing?”

“Turn over. This will be easier.”

Crowley flipped on his stomach and Aziraphale continued what he had started, tongue darting in and out. Occasionally he stopped to suck a bit, giving Crowley a break from the strong feelings. The sensation were licentious. Pleasurable. And totally unexpected. The demon scrambled to keep the needed position as Aziraphale worked, wanting so badly to arch his back in pleasure. His cries became louder until he simply couldn’t take it anymore.

“No more, Aziraphale. I can’t. I’m going to scream so loudly we’ll get caught.”

The angel came up for air. “We won’t get caught. They have no clue.”

No other angel had the erotic knowledge he did. None of them had ever had a relationship beyond friendship with anyone. If Crowley was heard to be screaming loudly, they’d assume Aziraphale was punishing him. But he switched tactics anyway, just to make Crowley feel more comfortable. Having the demon turn on his back again, they began anew. Two lubed fingers pressed against Crowley before slowly being inserted. Aziraphale worked them in and out pressing the right areas that made Crowley squirm as he did so. 

He kept up the rhythm with his hand as he shifted slightly so he could once again put his mouth on Crowley’s. The demon’s preternaturally long tongue found its way past Aziraphale’s lips causing the angel’s sky blue eyes to close for a moment. He kept up the thrusting despite the bit of an awkward angle he had positioned himself to be able to move his hand and kiss Crowley simultaneously. 

Beautiful demon . . . so perfect . . . so wonderful . . .

How could they? How could Heaven think that the being he loved was nothing but a monster? How could they deny him his freedom? His right to be who he truly was? He didn’t know about other demons. Maybe they truly were monsters, not that it meant they deserved to be slaves in Heaven. He had had six thousand years to get to know Crowley; to finally figure out that his adversary on Earth was far from what he expected in a demon. To experience his platonic feelings for Crowley slowly blossoming into love. Here Crowley was judged for being something he never wanted to be and treated as an object, part of the spoils of war. He never was cut out for either Heaven or Hell.

A tear ran down his cheek. Crowley kissed it out of existence.

“Ready?” Aziraphale whispered.

“Whenever you are,” panted Crowley. “I’ve been having all the fun here.”

Gently Aziraphale shifted again so he was directly on top of Crowley, parting his thighs with a smile. The demon winked back at him. Slowly he entered, savoring the tightness and the desire radiating off his partner. He felt Crowley’s legs brush his hips, then wrap around them, squeezing tightly enough to help keep them in position. It felt so good that he savoured every moment, every feeling, every little sound his demon made. Eyes closed, he just felt as he thrust into Crowley, going gently. He would not do anything that might re-traumatize the demon so kept rougher sex off the table. 

The tender lovemaking they engaged in was enough for both of them. They had spent months thinking they would never see each other again so any kind of contact was welcomed now, even if they had engaged in a whole range of sex from gentle to frenzied before. Aziraphale again kissed Crowley as he thrust inside Crowley, a loving feeling shooting through him as their lips met. 

_What would I do without you?_ he thought. _I’d probably waste away. That’s what I was doing before Gabriel brought you back to me. I wouldn’t have survived long without you._

He looked lovingly at the demon on the bed beneath him – naked body covered in sweat, face caught up in a look of ecstasy, those beautiful eyes of his closed as he concentrated on the physical, wings spread out to cover the bed.

“I won’t leave you again,” he whispered even though he wondered if Crowley was too far gone into the emotions and sensations of their lovemaking to notice. “Never, my love.”

Crowley’s fingernails tightened, digging into Aziraphale’s back below where his wings attached. Sensations of yearning shot through the angel and he wanted to hold him here in this bed forever while time simply passed them by. Forget the rest of Heaven falling apart around them. 

Turning his head so that he could muffle his own cries in the soft tartan-encased pillow, Crowley climaxed loudly, Aziraphale rejoicing to hear it. He no longer prayed to the Almighty who created them, but his feelings of joy at his reunion with Crowley were sent up as a kind of prayer to the demon he loved.

Spent, he lowered himself on to the bed beside the demon, wings spilling over the edge like Crowley’s were, white feathers mingling with black. Aziraphale lay beside him, curled up close for cuddles, pretending for all the world that things were back to normal as Crowley peppered his cheek with kisses.

It didn’t take long for Crowley to drift off to sleep but unfortunately, it wasn’t a peaceful one even though they made love right beforehand, giving his mind something positive to take into sleep with it. He began to whimper, casting about for Aziraphale as if the angel wasn’t right beside him. Aziraphale shifted to lay on Crowley, putting his weight on the demon, a position that always comforted him. He buried his face in Crowley’s collarbone, his breath warm on his skin as he stroked Crowley’s fiery red hair. The thrashing subsided. 

“We’ll get out here. I promise you we will, my love.”

~*~*~

Back in the Third Circle, all the demons in the small town on the border where the attacks against angels’ shops took place were required to meet in the town square to witness the punishment of the ring leaders. Those in charge of this village wanted to make absolutely certain every slave knew what would be in store for them if they dared to step out of line. Angels were afraid. Some were even going as far as to return their slaves to the training center, not wanting to take the chance they would be attacked by their demon. 

The environment was tense, making it imperative that this problem was nipped in the bud as soon as possible. Silently, demons gathered in the appointed place at the appointed time, angels with swords stationed all over the town as a security measure.

Members of the Department of Infernal Acquisitions (a nice way of saying “Demon Slavery”) stood on a dais with the three leaders to be punished, all of who stood there heads held high despite their bound hands. They were quite the example for the crowds below – unbent despite the severe punishment they faced. The demons in the crowd showed their respect for their sacrifice by being just as stoic and unbent as the punishment was meted out.

The three first endured five lashes each with a whip of holy fire. The wounds from those would take literally years to heal thanks to the consecrated qualities of the fire itself. It bit deep into demon flesh causing its mending abilities to slow down to a crawl. They would spend years in pain as the wounds slowly closed. Then they were made to get on their knees to beg their masters’ forgiveness and ask humbly for their place as their servants back. No angel wanted their slave back after their act of rebellion.

The angels as a whole still feared the demons somewhat and a demon who caused trouble was not worth the danger posed to a household. It was better to contact Infernal Acquisitions to see if there was another one available at the training center or just do without. There was no loss of status for returning a dangerous demon. It was rare though someone had to go without. Not many wanted slaves or just wanted one temporarily, so there was always a few available. And ones considered dangerous by one angel might not be by another, although demons thought to be trouble often ended up placed with the cruelest of Heaven’s inhabitants. Most demons tried to be compliant to avoid such a fate.

Lashes received, they were marched off back to the cells where they were placed in the punishment cells – smaller ones without much light and barely room to walk. Usually these cells were used only temporarily, but the chances of someone claiming one of these rebellious demons was very slim at best. Maybe in the far future someone would, but they would rot in those cages for decades or more before they possibly found relief.

The crowd was sobered. Many wondered if rebellion was worth it if that was your fate. Chances are the sadistic bastards who ran Infernal Acquisitions would come up with worse punishment if someone was to step out of line again. Demon slave after demon slave trudged home head down, spirit crushed. 

The town would be quiet for the foreseeable future. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Begining quote -- Giordano Bruno, a Dominican friar who was tried, found guilty and executed for heresy in 1600.
> 
> Next chapter things heat up. There will be content warnings.


	6. The Next Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It was a long game they were playing. Patience was required. And the strength to get through the day-to-day trials that they were presented with in this new dynamic. That’s what worried Crowley the most. He was carrying his own trauma from his imprisonment to being placed with Aziraphale, but Aziraphale was dealing with the hard lessons that came with learning exactly what angels were capable of and having to present the demeanor of a master in the public eye. Crowley feared it was eating at the soul of his kind, innocent angel._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for non-consensual touching that occurs above the waist. I would call it borderline sexual. If you feel bothered by this, skip to the end notes where I’ll summarize the important points of the chapter. The first section is safe to read if you wish and the second has a character thinking of implied questionable content, but nothing more graphic than that. Beyond that the content warning applies in full.

Crowley stared out at the lovely yet perfectly still lake the small house Aziraphale was looking at sat on. He missed the wind. He missed the smell of the salty sea air and waves on the water. The memories of living briefly in various places near water before he finally settled in London some five hundred years before the entire world burned away flooded him and he missed most of all how _real_ Earth was. 

Heaven was a poor facsimile. Angels trying desperately trying out lives of their own that were shadows of human existence. But they had to alleviate boredom now that most of them had no job to perform anymore. And since supernatural beings, with the exceptions of Aziraphale and Crowley, lacked imagination, imitation was all they were capable of. It was a delicious bit of irony, really, when he thought about it. Destroy the Earth; start acting like its inhabitants.

Aziraphale was over talking to the quartermaster of this Circle who happened to be in charge of doling out real estate. Nobody had expressed interest in this cottage yet. There was a distinct lack of trees on the property and land with large trees on it had become vogue. Miracling up some was considered cheating; the land had to come with them or you had to grow them yourself. Doing hobby-type activities without the use of powers was a big thing, too, lately.

More irony, in Crowley’s opinion.

He closed his eyes, stretching out his wings, pretending that he was on the shore of the ocean where a brisk salty breeze blew in his face and mussed his feathers. He’d give anything to fly right now which was an odd feeling given less than a year ago, he basically ignored his wings in favour of human modes of transportation like his beloved Bentley.

He still missed that car sorely. 

Aziraphale and the Quartermaster of Real Estate stood on the back porch of the cottage looking out over the gardens, the lake and the small figure with his wings extended. The Quartermaster laughed at the scene.

“What does he think he’s going to do? Take off?” she asked derisively. She had declined a slave, not wanting a demon around her house, even one without powers. Instead, she employed angels of lesser rank to clean her flat, run errands and act as her assistants. 

“Oh, he just likes to get a little fresh air once in a while. It doesn’t hurt him to get out of the library occasionally,” said Aziraphale, trying to sound as dismissive as possible. 

“So you don’t use him for errands? Why have a slave?”

“He was the Serpent of Eden. Not exactly popular up here and I don’t like my property getting damaged. He’d be beaten something terrible on the streets because angels refuse to keep their hands to themselves. Personally I don’t think such barbaric behaviour should be allowed. We’re not demons,” replied Aziraphale primly. “I find plenty for him to do around the library and my flat.” _Forgive me, Crowley, for talking about you like you’re a piece of furniture._

“It keeps them in line knowing anyone can punish them on the streets for misbehaving. We’ve had too many incidents lately.”

Crowley could hear them speaking, but they were too far away to discern words. Aziraphale’s body language told him he wasn’t happy about the direction the conversation was going. This was one of those times Crowley wished he could defend his angel, but they both had their parts to play in this sham if they were to not bring suspicion on themselves.

He walked around to the side of the house to get a better look at the gardens there. He agreed the place was very much in need of a few shade trees even though they weren’t getting a place for the purpose of showing off to their friends. 

“. . . now you are pretty well-respected, Aziraphale,” Crowley heard the quartermaster say. “Your work putting library branches in every Circle of Heaven was ingenious. There would have been so many bored angels if you hadn’t. You could have your pick of any available cottage out there. Shall we look at the next one on my list?”

“Of course,” said Aziraphale. Crowley knew he was keeping this one under advisement, but the ultimate goal was to get one as close to Heaven’s border as possible. This one was quite a trek still. Doable, but closer would be better. A lesser chance of getting caught.

They headed around the side of the house where Crowley was. Aziraphale smiled at him.

“There you, Crowley. We’re heading out to see another cottage.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You really should be having him call you ‘master’,” said their guide as they reached Heaven’s chief mode of transportation – a vehicle that greatly resembled early human cars without a means to drive. They worked on miracles. Individual angels did not own them, but they could be requested from Requisitions if needed. 

There were two rows of seats – the first one for angels, the second for any slaves that were being taken along on the trip. Crowley hopped in the back with a clandestine dirty look towards the quartermaster after helping Aziraphale into his seat.

“I find ‘sir’ works just fine,” Aziraphale replied, his words a little on the icy side. He shot a quick apologetic look at Crowley who gave an almost imperceptible shrug in response.

“You always were a soft one, Aziraphale,” she replied in an upbeat, teasing manner.

Crowley looked out at the landscape speeding by as they moved on, the chatter of the quartermaster barely registering to him, unlike Aziraphale’s polite-but-strained responses. Crowley knew how much he hated this new society he was forced to live in. Not that he was that fond of it himself, but given the choice between his current situation and either non-existence or wasting away while being abused in prison, he’d rather be Aziraphale’s slave. They would be out of here soon, anyway. Getting a cottage close enough to the border was the next step of the plan. They’d just have to make it seem like Aziraphale was setting up a second home, which meant spending a few weekends there, establishing a benign routine.

It was a long game they were playing. Patience was required. And the strength to get through the day-to-day trials that they were presented with in this new dynamic. That’s what worried Crowley the most. He was carrying his own trauma from his imprisonment to being placed with Aziraphale, but Aziraphale was dealing with the hard lessons that came with learning exactly what angels were capable of and having to present the demeanor of a master in the public eye. Crowley feared it was eating at the soul of his kind, innocent angel. Crowley knew there wasn’t a thing he could do to protect Aziraphale’s innocence, either. He could only hope Aziraphale understood the strength of character he possessed before Heaven’s toxic environment ate away at the angel’s inherent goodness.

He would support his partner however he could because he always had. Because he loved him and was loved in return. 

The carriage came to a halt in front of a one-story cottage on piece of property with several large trees. Crowley was jolted out of his reverie as it stopped. He immediately hopped out, opened Aziraphale’s door and held out a hand to help him out. To those two it was nothing more than a loving gesture, a way to touch in public no matter how briefly. To the quartermaster, it was a well-trained slave being of service. But whatever helped them fly under the radar, Crowley figured.

Aziraphale squeezed his hand in adoring thanks. He would show Crowley how much he loved and appreciated him later in private in return for what all he did and put up with today.

“Thank you,” said Aziraphale with a smile.

The quartermaster smiled at him. “Polite even with slaves. You are something else! And I think this might be the place you want. I know you’re very private . . .”

Crowley sauntered off to look around. This place was only a mile or two from the border instead of closer to twenty like the other one. It has a nice private pond and plenty of trees. He could make gardens all over if he so desired, depending on how long they stayed. It would be something to do and add to the illusion that Aziraphale was finally settling into a routine instead of moping around his library. If things looked normal, then they would be ignored while more evident troublemakers were investigated.

“You’re just going to let him wander off? Don’t you worry he’s going to try to escape?”

“There’s nowhere for him to go, my dear quartermaster,” he heard Aziraphale reply in that tone of his that said he was barely hanging on to his patience. “We have an understanding. He’s attentive and I don’t punish him. It’s worked well so far.”

Crowley laughed at those last sentences since they were technically true – he lavished attention on Aziraphale, which was lavished on him in return, and Aziraphale didn’t reprimand him in any way because in the privacy of their own world they were equals. Oh, if she only knew the _real _meaning behind that statement was love, not a forced power dynamic.

He walked alone through the grounds and cottage inspecting everything. The quartermaster had to take a phone call – mobiles were still all the rage in Heaven – leaving Aziraphale a few moments to discuss things with his partner.

“Do you think this will do if I’m approved to get it?”

Angels requisitioned big ticket items they could not miracle up themselves, like housing, in the interest of fairness, not that the system always was. If no one else of higher rank wanted this place first, chances were good it would be Aziraphale’s.

“It’s closer to the border and there’s nobody around to watch us. I think it’s worth it,” murmured Crowley. “You can justify the smaller size with the trees since trees seem to be a status symbol these days. Nobody’ll think twice.”

Crowley backed off a respectable distance upon noticing the quartermaster returning, clasping his hands in front of him with head bowed as he was trained to do. Protocol was everything in public.

She smiled at Aziraphale as she walked up to them. “So, what do you think?”

“I believe this one will do nicely,” replied Aziraphale. “I love all the trees.”

“But it has only one all-purpose room,” reminded the quartermaster. “I assume you’ll want an office. And you have a slave. He’s going to need space since they require sleep.”

“Oh, all he needs is a corner,” Aziraphale said nonchalantly as he could with an accompanying wave of his hand. “Slave Code doesn’t say I have to give him a full room of his own.” 

Aziraphale drolly thought to himself that all Crowley needed was half the bed. 

A few more formalities and the place was officially Aziraphale’s. He and Crowley could come out here next weekend to decide how to decorate it. After shaking the quartermaster’s hand with thanks for her help, Aziraphale transported himself and Crowley back into the flat above the library.

“Tonight is all about you, my dear,” said Aziraphale as they stood there in the lounge. He leaned his forehead against Crowley’s as they decompressed for a moment after the strain of having to be out and about today. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” 

“What do you want for dinner? I’ll make you anything.” The angel paused and blushed. “Ok . . . anything simple enough for me to cook, anyway.” 

“I did like that spicy dish you threw together the other night. The one with the beef in it,” Crowley replied nuzzling him while kissing his blond curls. “I’m hungry and that’s filling and quick.”

Simple fare they cooked themselves. They had come a long way from a couple of food snobs who only ate at the best restaurants London had to offer. Crowley found it ironically amusing in its own way.

Aziraphale made him rest on the couch while he bustled around in the kitchen. By the angel’s reasoning, Crowley had spent enough time walking around expending energy he ought to be reserving because he still was underweight. He complied just to please his angel. It made Aziraphale happy to take care of him ever since he was dumped in chains on the library floor by those angelic goons. A book on astronomy in his hands, he relaxed until dinner was ready, perusing its pages for possible habitable planets.

~*~*~

Celion was going over some details on contingency plans to quash any possible rebellious activity in the capital city with Gabriel in the Archangel’s office when he noticed a copy of the report granting Aziraphale the cottage near the border on his desk. He eyed it carefully, hoping Gabriel didn’t notice. 

“I think these punishments should cover it if things get out of hand with the demons,” Gabriel was saying to him straightening his lavender tie. “Although I’ve had no reports of any troublemaking in Empyrean. I think we have a good grasp on things, being the epicenter of Heaven. It’s the borders that worry me.”

“Me, too,” agreed Celion. “And with more angels wanting to get vacation cottages out in the country it worries me. It’s too easy for demons to start trouble out there where there is less law enforcement to prevent problems.” 

Gabriel leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled as he considered this. “True. True. How about extra training sessions for any demon belonging to an angel who gets a home out in the rural areas?”

Celion smiled his predatory grin while he nodded in agreement. “I do like that idea. Very much. I think putting a little extra fear in the demons would be quite helpful.”

He couldn’t wait to get Crowley in his grasp again. Something about that demon attracted him. Maybe it was the unusual red hair mixed with those high cheekbones, but Celion found his thoughts heading directions an angel’s thoughts shouldn’t. Sometimes he wished he had taken the former Serpent of Eden as his own slave rather than that mousey demon he had. Oh, she got her work done and cowered very nicely before him, but her lack of personality meant she was boring. 

He would have enjoyed breaking Crowley even more than he had. He knew that demon still had some fight in him and he didn’t trust Aziraphale after the Principality had proven himself easily tempted by his now-slave. Gabriel made a mistake there, maybe, even if Celion didn’t feel opinionated enough to tell him. A traitor didn’t deserve a place back in the Host and the honour of a slave, but maybe karma would catch up with Aziraphale. Maybe Crowley would trip him up once again.

They had a small handful of traitor angels who were now either serving time for refusing to fight or had been rehabilitated into serviceable slaves. Just possibly there would be one more traitor to join their ranks in the future. He had mulled it over, wanting to own the set if it was possible – Serpent of Eden and Guardian of the Eastern Gate.

~*~*~

Aziraphale was using his body to block the other angels’ entrance into the library. “I don’t care. He’s my property and you can’t just be coming along to take him back whenever. I am going to have a word with the Council about this.”

A scroll was shoved in his face by one of the angels. “This is the decree that the slaves of all angels who acquire rural real estate property in the Outer Circles must attend an additional two hour training session. It’s for the protection of us all. They’re being taught the dangers of attempting to assemble and rebel.”

“Preposterous. Crowley has no contact with other demons. They’re not even allowed in the library anymore and I don’t allow him to leave the premises alone,” retorted Aziraphale. “He’s not going anywhere.”

Celion stepped into view. “Becoming rather protective of your slave, aren’t you? Should I be worried about fraternization again?” he asked in that Northeastern American accent of his.

Aziraphale held his composure. “Not at all. I’m protective of what’s mine. I would be just as upset if you decided to come in here and take the library books with the intent of rewriting them before returning them. No angel should be allowed to just take another angel’s property like this.”

“This is the new law, Aziraphale. Now do I need to have you arrested or are you going to allow us to take him for a few hours?”

Crowley was hiding behind the stacks with just his face visible to Aziraphale through an empty slot on the shelf at head-level. He looked terrified, but shook his head in the angel’s direction. Better he endure a few hours of whatever Celion had planned than risk anything that might derail their plans.

Aziraphale deflated. “Fine. Crowley!”

The demon appeared, trying to act as if he heard none of the conversation. “Yes, master?” Even he was being careful, as evidenced by his use of that word.

“Apparently they have to take you for more training because I now have a house in the country.” Aziraphale turned to Celion. “He _will _be returned to me in the same condition I have given him to you, understand?”

“Oh, I intend him no harm, Principality Aziraphale,” said Celion smoothly as he and his goons left with Crowley. 

Aziraphale’s panicked gaze followed them until he could no longer see Crowley. Then the worry set in.

Crowley’s own panic started when he was led back to Celion’s office and left alone with him in a conference room that had been cleared of all furniture except a chair. The angel yanked the leash attached to Crowley’s collar.

“Kneel,” he commanded.

Crowley obeyed, putting his hands on his thighs and keeping his eyes down. He had learned to fear what he would do to him. Celion’s training was brutal and still sharp in Crowley’s memory. He wouldn’t soon forget the use of a consecrated knife on him. It burned as badly as walking on that church floor to save Aziraphale during the Blitz with the added bonus of being able to slice open his skin and spill his blood.

“Good,” praised Celion, caressing Crowley’s hair. “I see you’ve learned. You know, I find you intriguing, 354-174 and not in a way angels should find demons intriguing. Why is that?”

Crowley recoiled at the caress, causing Celion to grab a handful of hair and wretch his head so he was looking at him. The demon yelped in surprise. 

“What are these feelings, 354-174? You were on Earth among humans for thousands of years. Surely you know.”

“No . . . I don’t, sir,” mumbled Crowley. “I’ve only heard of them and seen humans interested in each other exchange touch.”

“Is that why I want to touch you? Because I’m interested in you?”

“You’re an angel. I’m a demon. We’re not made to have such feelings.” replied Crowley nervously. He wanted to get up and run before anything worse happened. _Angels know nothing of sex. I’m ok._

Celion backhanded him hard enough that Crowley tasted blood. He didn’t react, just continued to look down. He _could not_ react. He could not risk being separated from Aziraphale.

“You forget your place, serpent.”

“I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

Celion sat in the chair, leaning back to look at Crowley. Before Crowley realized what was happening, the angel in charge of the Department of Infernal Acquisitions had miracled the demon chained to the ceiling by his wrists. Celion was crowding him, hands on his chest and arms. Breathing heavily in a state of near-panic, Crowley turned his head to the side, not watching. This couldn’t be happening.

Celion had removed a hand from his arm to touch Crowley’s cheek. “It’s just fascination, isn’t it? You’re highly unusual among demons. You defied authority and had free will. It took a lot more to break you than it did your coworkers,” the angel said softly, almost menacingly. “The only reason you broke is because I starved you enough you didn’t have the physical strength to fight back anymore. The only reason you’re not fighting back now is because Aziraphale treats you kindly and your situation is greatly improved. You’re not starving in a cell being beaten twice a day.”

Crowley whimpered faintly, twisting in his chains, wishing this was all over. _Play the long game. You have to endure this. No other choice._

“I shouldn’t _be _fascinated with you. You’re scum. Just another demon meant to serve us.” 

Celion opened Crowley’s shirt with a miracle to run a lazy finger down his sternum, enjoying the sight of his hand rising and falling with the panicked breathing of the demon. He put his hand flat against the demon’s chest, smiling cruelly at Crowley as those creepy snake eyes screwed shut like they always did when Crowley was feeling fear. Celion could hear the slight whimpers in his throat that he was trying so hard not to let out. 

“No!” Crowley cried out when Celion ran his entire hand down Crowley’s chest in a motion that could almost be described as sexual.

And the beating started. Magically cut loose from the chains holding him up, Crowley quickly collapsed on to the floor, rolling on his side, covering his head with his arms for protection. Sending almost-prayers out to God, he begged Her to make it stop. To make Celion come to his senses. Then all he could do was cry out in pain and hope it would let up soon. It seemed like an eternity before it did and Crowley lay there panting, thankful Celion didn’t go after his delicate wings this time.

Celion dragged him to his feet, slamming him back against the wall where he ran his fingers over his cheekbones then through his hair as the demon whined from the pain inflicted on him. Crowley did his best not to flinch at the touch that made him feel dirty, like he needed to scrub the feeling away. This kind of touch was special to him and Aziraphale. It was not the kind he would ever allow anyone else to do to him. He hoped desperately that Celion never figured out there was more to lust than this.

Then Celion did go for his nipples, running his hands over them in a way Crowley wouldn’t describe as sexual, but more curious. That didn’t help the situation; he was still being violated, touched against his will, unable to do a thing to stop it. Tears ran down one cheek.

“Please, sir . . .” he whispered.

“There are no other red-haired supernatural beings. Just you. Why?” Celion asked his breath obscene in Crowley’s face.

“I don’t know . . . nobody chooses that colour, sir,” Crowley replied, the pain and panic evident in his voice. “We all seem to form our bodies to what our spirits look like.”

“He cut it for you. It was getting so shaggy.” Then suddenly, almost violently, he changed subjects. “You should have been _mine_, but that idiot Gabriel insisted you go to Aziraphale.” A finger trailed down Crowley’s throat. Celion smiled at Crowley’s terror, felt the demon swallow under his fingertip. “You’re afraid. You’re standing here acting all brave and taking this so you can go back to your cushy life in the library with that soft excuse for an angel.”

Crowley’s breathing was shallow. “Would you want to go back to living in a dark cell where you were beaten and starved, sir?” His vision momentarily went white when Celion slammed his head against the wall.

“That feistiness is still there. You just hide it well, serpent.”

“Celion!” The sharp voice matched up almost perfectly with the slam of the conference room door. Gabriel stood there, blending in well with the shades of grey that made up the walls and carpet. “Put him down!”

“He’s a slave and he’s been mouthy with me. He needs to be taught a lesson!” Celion bit back, his wings rustling in irritation.

“Now,” commanded Gabriel his own wings spreading in a dominant gesture.

The other angel walked away; Crowley locked his knees to keep from sliding down the wall into a pile on the floor.

“Heal him up and take him back to Aziraphale,” Gabriel said to another angel who accompanied him. “And Crowley? Not a word of this to anyone if you don’t want to end up back in the cells.”

Crowley was escorted out after he murmured assent.

“He’s a threat,” growled Celion. “He hasn’t been broken enough and he’ll end up causing us all problems. I recommend that he stays in the cells whenever Aziraphale leaves town. We can’t risk it.”

Gabriel curled a lip up at his behaviour. “Why the obsession? I don’t understand.”

“He needs to be watched. He’s not tame and you placed him with a traitor. Don’t you see?”

“Aziraphale saw the errors of his ways and repented. He deserves to have his rival who tricked him as a slave. You said so yourself,” replied Gabriel. “And we can’t just be taking angels' slaves from them whenever we feel there’s a problem. That’ll cause bigger problems.”

Gabriel put a hand on Celion’s shoulder, guiding him to the chair. He looked at the other angel for a moment, sensing paranoia in him. 

“Look, you’re all fired up from the rebellion and the work you had to do on it,” Gabriel said in his best corporate boss voice. “You did an exceptional job as always, which is why you’re the Head of the Department. I know it’s hard overseeing all the different Circles’ Infernal Acquisition offices. Why don’t you take a few weeks off? It’s calm now, so you can leave it in your second’s capable hands for a while. You deserve a break after all you’ve done.”

The Archangel didn’t leave Celion any choice in the matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Aziraphale gets a cottage close to the border so they can easily make an escape. They make plans to spend a couple of weekends there, set up a routine, then make their escape when everyone thinks they’ve settled in.
> 
> * Celion discusses the demon rebellion problems with Gabriel and dreams of Aziraphale tripping up because he believes he’s a traitor who doesn’t deserve a slave, let alone one that could be such a status symbol like the Serpent of Eden. Actually, he’s hoping Aziraphale messes up bad enough he can have him arrested and maybe claim the pair of them. Owning both of the immortal players in the Garden of Eden saga would be quite the feather in his wing.
> 
> * Celion starts doing some scheming to get Crowley alone where he reveals he’s obsessed with the demon and how he thinks he should own him instead of Aziraphale. Some physical abuse of Crowley occurs.
> 
> * Gabriel realizes there’s an obsession building and tells Celion to take a few weeks off to come to his senses. Crowley’s ordered to not say a word of what happened to him to Aziraphale if he doesn’t want to end up imprisoned again.
> 
> Opening quote -- _ Bad Liar_, Imagine Dragons


	7. The Cottage on the Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“But we’re not safe here. It’s a good thing we have the cottage because it’s time to take action. You can’t stay here any longer than is necessary.” Aziraphale wrapped arms and wings around Crowley, comforting him._
> 
> _“We’re going to be watched now. He’s obsessed. That’s the best explanation of his behaviour I can give,” Crowley mumbled into Aziraphale’s arm as he cuddled. “He thinks you’re a traitor who should be in the cells and I should be his slave.”_
> 
> Aziraphale and Crowley need to make good on their plans before Celion's obsession puts a halt to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: There is a discussion of non-consensual touching in the first section of this chapter.

_You write poems with your fingertips  
And I keep listening to the songs written on my skin  
By some distant dream, similar words  
But the verses never meet..._

Crowley was returned home, the demon frightfully quiet and Celion mysteriously absent. The employee who returned him had no information on how the session went to give Aziraphale which worried him. He gently took Crowley by the arm, guiding him upstairs anxiously.

“What happened, Crowley?” he asked softly as they sat on the couch.

Crowley looked sullenly off out the window. “He just loves beating the crap out of me. Gabriel came in for some reason . . . carrying some papers so it was probably just plain dumb luck he came upon Celion deciding I needed some discipline. They healed me up and told me to keep my mouth shut about it.”

“It’s more than that, Crowley, as awful as all that is already. You can’t hide much from me.” The angel smiled sadly. “I’ve known you for six thousand years.”

“What do angels know about attraction?”

“These angels, my dear? Not much. They never dealt with humans, never spent any amount of time on Earth learning what real love was. Or even lust. Or anything to do with attraction. Why?” Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand in his, looking at him suspiciously.

“Calion expressed this . . . fascination with me. Fascination I’d put on a sexual level. He touched my hair, talked about being interested in me in ways an angel shouldn’t be interested in a demon. Ran a hand over my chest,” Crowley shut his eyes. “It wasn’t much, but it felt like a violation all the same. Not that I’m trying to put this on a level of the outright sexual harms we saw throughout the millennia on Earth.”

“You have every right to feel upset about it, Crowley. Are you ok to hug me right now?”

“Yeah, angel. You’re safe.” The demon all but crawled into Aziraphale’s arms, leaning every part of his body against him he could. “You’ve always been safe.”

“But we’re not safe here. It’s a good thing we have the cottage because it’s time to take action. You can’t stay here any longer than is necessary.” Aziraphale wrapped arms and wings around Crowley, comforting him. 

“We’re going to be watched now. He’s obsessed. That’s the best explanation of his behaviour I can give,” Crowley mumbled into Aziraphale’s arm as he cuddled. “He thinks you’re a traitor who should be in the cells and I should be his slave.”

“If I have to go to Gabriel and complain, I will, my dear. I seem to be in his good graces since I messed up and couldn’t find a receptive human to possess. I know you’re not privy to much of what goes on between he and I because you don’t want to be, but I hope you don’t mind me telling you I’ve been trying in small ways to curry more favor with him so I secure a place as a loyal angel of Heaven,” said Aziraphale in reply. “I remember what you said about playing the long game. I’ve kind of gotten good at the whole subterfuge thing, too.”

“That’s my angel,” Crowley stated with pride and a kiss. He paused then added. “I want a bath and out of these clothes.”

“Then you shall have that, my dear. Go get in the tub. I’ll fetch you some clean clothes.” Aziraphale filled the tub with a thought knowing that Crowley wouldn’t mind that. “Jeans and a t-shirt?”

“Yes.”

Crowley headed to the bathroom to strip and soak his sore body while Aziraphale went to the bedroom to get a soft grey t-shirt and a pair of black skinny jeans out of Crowley’s side of the wardrobe along with a pair of boxers. He snagged a clean towel out of the hallway cupboard on his way to the bathroom. 

What was worn in Heaven was quite diverse. Some angels who had never left Heaven opted for the traditional robes. Others, like Gabriel, had their bespoke suits or other tailor-made clothing that was close to what humans wore. Aziraphale stuck with his tried-and-true Victorian frock coat, slightly threadbare waistcoat, trousers dating from the 1800s and the tartan bowtie he favoured. 

Demons wore whatever their owners found appropriate. Tunic-style shirts with trousers, usually in light colours, proved popular. Some of the higher-ranked angels had developed livery in colours they had claimed and dressed their demons in them, or the demons wore shirts with their chosen symbol embroidered on the right breast like a fashion designer’s logo.

Crowley, having more freedoms than most slaves, wore what he wanted, usually t-shirts or long-sleeved shirts and jeans, all in greys and blacks. He chose lighter greys to wear in the library as he knew Aziraphale caught flack when he wore darker shades. It wasn’t appropriate for Heaven, others said. Of course others also didn’t approve that Aziraphale allowed Crowley to choose his own clothing. Aziraphale brushed them off saying he was too busy to have a tailor design custom uniforms for Crowley and he was just running a library so it didn’t matter that much.

Aziraphale placed the clothing on the sink’s counter and sat on the lid of the fake toilet. It was there only because the bathroom in the bookshop’s flat had one. 

Crowley was staring intently at the palm of his left hand as he soaked. Aziraphale’s soft touch brought him out of his reverie; he looked over at the angel. 

“How are you doing?” Aziraphale asked.

“A little bit better, I think. I need to figure out that dream. I’ve been concentrating on the scar every night before I go to sleep, hoping that it’ll jog my memory or bring the dream back,” Crowley replied. “So far, nothing.”

“It’s my writing, but I couldn’t have done it,” said Aziraphale slowly. “It puzzles me as much as it does you. Quite the mystery, that. Who knows your sigil, can write like me and had access to your cell?”

“Nobody I know.” Crowley shifted so that he was half hanging out of the tub, reaching for the angel. “Join me? I can’t get my mind completely off Celion no matter how hard I try.”

He watched Aziraphale try to navigate the tub full of water, demon and wings before finally stopping him. Getting in and out of the tub was always an intricate dance when they wanted to bathe together.

“Stupid wings,” Crowley groused. “I wish we could put them away. Let’s just go to the bed.”

He got out of the tub and grabbed the towels off the rack, handing one to his angel. His own wings were not wet this time, as he had kept them out of the water by having one hanging over the side and the other propped up awkwardly on the wall, thus he would not need Aziraphale’s aid in drying them. Rubbing the towel over himself, he tried not to think about the touch, the caress of his hair, the words Celion said to him. They meant nothing. He was fascinated with Crowley because in reality the demon never did truly break. He walked out of that brutal training bruised, but with his personality intact. It wasn’t sexual because angels had to make an effort. It was misplaced fascination in a being who basically thwarted him

“Crowley, my dear, do be careful.” Aziraphale’s hand was on his arm then tenderly taking the towel out of his suddenly tight grasp. “You’re going to take your skin off. Here, allow me.”

He found himself being wrapped in the soft terrycloth of the towel, Aziraphale’s gentle hands rubbing him dry, one naked vulnerable demon clinging for dear life to the angel who loved him. The tears came suddenly, Crowley unable to stop them.

“Shhh, you’re safe. You’re with me and I won’t let them hurt you again. Next time I’ll lodge a complaint instead of letting them just take you. I’m sorry, my love.”

Aziraphale led him to the bedroom, coaxing him into bed where he snuggled up close, just holding him without saying a word. The demon’s silent tears wet his collarbone, the rubbing of his cheek causing Aziraphale’s skin to redden, so he eventually cupped Crowley’s chin in his hand and lifted it to look into those golden eyes.

“You’re starting to rub my skin a bit raw, so I figured your probably rubbing your own cheek raw as well.” He touched Crowley’s cheek, the red irritated spot on it disappearing. “Let’s sit up a while. I think it’ll be easier.”

They shifted, propping up the many fluffy pillows Aziraphale had on the bed to cushion their backs from the hardness of the headboard, doing their best to keep their wings from knocking items off the nightstands. It wasn’t always successful, but even Aziraphale ignored it when he heard a book hit the carpet. Right now Crowley was more important.

“I, too, must admit I liked it better when we could put our wings away,” he said as he comforted his demon. “I believe I’m going to open the library tomorrow, but not the rest of the week. We’ll head out to the cottage to figure out how to decorate it and get you out of here for a while.”

“That sounds good,” replied Crowley. He was starting to feel better, having relaxed to the point he was melting into Aziraphale’s touch.

They sat there, Crowley leaning against Aziraphale as the angel held him until it was late. Finally Aziraphale coaxed Crowley into lying down, seeing how tired he was, convincing him to lay on his stomach so he could rub his back the best he could with a pair of wings in the way.

“Let me put you to sleep,” he said to the demon. “Backrubs always do that.”

Crowley didn’t object. “Thank you, angel,” he whispered sleepily as he felt Aziraphale run his hands down his back softly. He didn’t stay awake for very long.

Worried about scars, dreams, whatever happened in Crowley’s cell to cause that sigil on him and Celion’s weird behavior, Aziraphale settled down beside Crowley, unable to sleep himself. He wiggled underneath Crowley’s outstretched wing, pulling up the blankets the best he could and listened to the steady breathing of his partner as he tried to calm the burning anger he felt towards Celion.

~*~*~

Celion sat at a table in the outdoor seating area of a small coffee shop that had cropped up across from the library to give angels something to do. Quite a few coffee connoisseurs had developed in the months following the Apocalypse as everyone settled in and found they needed ways to pass the time. Crowley was correct – it was quite ironic how angels who paid little attention to humans were emulating them now that there was little else to do in Heaven.

The angel who owned the shop approached him with a sigh. “Why don’t you take a trip?” she asked. “Sitting around here obsessing over Aziraphale and his slave is not helpful.”

“What?” Celion asked, his concentration broken by her intrusion. 

She shook her head, her many black braids swaying, as she refilled his coffee mug. “Everyone knows you wanted the Serpent of Eden for your own, honey. Gossip is a hot commodity these days. Take some time in one of the resort Circles or something. Just do yourself a favour and quit generating more of it by coming around here to stalk those two. Aziraphale has his slave well in hand so you’re not going to catch him tripping up. Everyone who goes into the library says so.”

“Yes,” muttered Celion as he raked a hand through his dark hair. “Maybe I should take a vacation.” 

He spent a lot of time in the Eastern United States and its seaboard when the Earth was a vibrant planet. Suddenly he felt a longing to be near the ocean. Maybe he should vacation in the Fifth Circle where a reasonably passable sea had been created.

Aziraphale and his demon slave would still be here when he got back.

~*~*~

“Decorate it how you want. If I have input in it, it’s going to look suspicious,” Crowley said as he looked at the cottage’s lounge with its grey-beige wooden floor, light grey stone fireplace and white walls. 

“Nonsense, Crowley. We just need to blend our styles.”

“Then we get monochromatic tartan.”

Aziraphale smiled at that despite himself. He walked around the room, noting where the windows were. “Why not?” He snapped his fingers, filling the room with décor.

Two overstuffed inviting chairs of a medium grey colour faced a couch of the same shade, all sporting tartan pillows in a darker grey and black pattern. A light grey rug of considerable plushness was laid out below a coffee table in a shade of beige found in the wood floor. Bookshelves surrounded the fireplace on either side, containing some of Aziraphale’s favourites and the mantelpiece was decorated with antique knickknacks from candleholders to snuffboxes to things Crowley couldn’t readily identify. Unlike Aziraphale, he wasn’t one to clutter up space with what he considered useless items. Framed art resembling what was in Crowley’s flat on Earth hung on the walls.

Standing there with his arms crossed, Crowley raised an eyebrow. “It works.”

They decorated the rest of the cottage, which consisted of a kitchen and a bedroom (or all-purpose room as angels called it). Aziraphale added a bathroom as well with a tub large enough to handle their wings. It was small space-wise, but it would do for their plans. He figured they’d probably spend most of their time outside anyway since Crowley would enjoy working on the gardens. It would give him something relaxing to do.

The bedroom now contained a very large soft bed done in light blue and beige shades. The bathroom had white walls with black marble fixtures and a black tile floor just like the one in Crowley’s old flat. They both decided a rustic look for the kitchen would be best. Now an old oak table dominated it with matching cabinets. The floor was a warm wood with rugs under the table and by the sink.

“Maybe we should only stay a couple of days,” Crowley said as Aziraphale finished up. “Gossip was up again. People are becoming braver. Since they use the library as a safe space, we should be open to encourage the sedition.”

Aziraphale nodded. “I was thinking that, too. But let’s enjoy ourselves for now. You needed out of the city.”

“I need out of Heaven,” Crowley replied looking at him. “So do you.”

“I know. We’re taking steps in that direction,” Aziraphale replied, kissing Crowley on his hand. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“Why?”

“I was thinking if we start establishing that we go for walks regularly, then if we happen to walk to the border and disappear, it’ll be some time before someone realizes something.”

“True,” grinned Crowley. “But why would you take your demon slave for a walk with you?”

Aziraphale waved a hand. “Maybe because you need some exercise and I don’t want to leave you unsupervised in the house.”

“Better get a leash. Remember slaves aren’t allowed to be unaccompanied anymore and must be leashed.”

“I hate having a leash on you. It doesn’t seem to bother you any. Why is that?”

“Because you’re the one holding it, so it’s just a prop to fool others,” replied Crowley. “It was different whenever the trainers had one on me. It was a means of control, sometimes punishment. I can’t tell you how many times I was pulled to my knees with one.”

“Oh, Crowley, I’m sorry.” The angel pulled him in for a hug, feeling guilt at how the rest of his species treated him. 

“Not your fault,” Crowley replied, his voice muffled because he buried his head in Aziraphale’s shoulder. “You’re not them.”

They went for a brief walk, covering about half a mile before turning around to head back. The border itself was about a mile away. They discussed working up to that as they strolled along alone on the trails. Three weeks seemed like a good timeframe to work up to that if they came out every weekend.

Crowley was hungry when they returned to the cottage and started work on dinner as soon as he yanked the leash off himself. Aziraphale went to the bookshelves in the lounge to grab a cookbook as Crowley rooted through the fridge. 

“I want curry,” he said.

“I don’t think anyone’s developed a curry recipe yet,” replied Aziraphale as he flipped through the pages of the book. “There’s a nice beef bourguigion one and I know you like that. Oh, a couple of stir fry, too. We could try an American dish.”

“No. They couldn’t cook over there in that country.”

“Shepherd’s pie?”

“Sure. It’ll do, I guess.” Crowley missed real restaurants that cooked high-end meals for him with wait staff to bring it to his table. 

He pulled lamb and potatoes out of the fridge then rummaged for spices. Aziraphale grabbed the rest of the vegetables with some sour cream and cheese to mix with the mashed potato topping. They had experimented a bit and added their own twist to a basic recipe. Together they chopped, browned, boiled, mashed and put everything together in a baking dish to slide into the oven. Cooking together was one of the joys they shared. 

Afterwards, Crowley did the washing up and Aziraphale dried while they waited for it to bake so they would have less dishes to clean up after dinner itself. Crowley stuck the last of the measuring cups he washed in the drying rack for Aziraphale to take care of before he grabbed items to put back into cabinets and drawers. 

“You should sit down,” suggested Aziraphale, always watching out for Crowley’s health. The demon was still underweight but with their plan in motion, the angel wanted to be doubly sure he was healthy enough to handle a trip through the galaxy. “Exercise and all that is good for you, but you still have weight to gain back. I was thinking maybe it would be wise for you to go back to eating an extra meal.”

“Angel, I always have been on the skinny side. Part of retaining some serpentine features, I guess,” replied Crowley as he obediently sat down. It was easier than arguing with his partner. “I doubt you’re going to be able to really fatten me up.”

“You haven’t been in space since . . . “ started Aziraphale then stopped.

“Since before the Fall? Yeah, but it wasn’t like I was much heavier as an angel. I spent years out there working on cosmic projects. I’ll be fine.”

“I guess I’ll have to trust that you will,” commented Aziraphale solemnly. “I lost you once. I don’t want to lose you again”

He walked over to drape his arms about Crowley from behind, resting his cheek on Crowley’s head. Crowley reached up to caress him, touching his cheek and tousling his blond curls. “We’ll be fine. You’ve become too used to Earth and dependent on your human body’s functions. You forget we won’t need to eat, sleep or even breathe. We’ll be able to miracle up shields to keep the radiation from harming us. It won’t kill us, but it will do a number on our human bodies. We can travel at light speed to get where we’re going quicker.”

“Will we have our powers in space?” asked a worried Aziraphale.

“Of course we will. We have powers everywhere in God’s creation. She couldn’t have sent angels up to create stars if they had no means of keeping themselves alive or were unable to perform their job,” answered Crowley. “It’s different from Earth or Heaven, so you’ll have to get used to it, but it’s very doable.”

They retired to the lounge to wait for dinner to be done where Aziraphale read a novel while Crowley idly looked through some gardening books for ideas. He hoped Aziraphale could get him whatever plants he desired. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right. It might be the last time he got to do something just for fun for a while. They’d be busy establishing themselves on one of Alpha Centauri’s planets, no time for frivolous activities until that was accomplished. 

They were heading into the unknown and while establishing themselves a livable area meant miracling up a shelter, there still would be exploration to see what the planet had to offer in the area of flora and fauna. They would be on their own for the first time ever. No other demons, angels or even humans. Intelligent life was a possibility, but not guaranteed. Chances are good they would be alone in a world that they would have to figure out and they’d have to start from scratch. It was scary to think about.

Aziraphale still looked worried, but conversation drifted off to other areas, mostly mundane ones until the oven beeped, telling them dinner was ready. Crowley set the table while Aziraphale got the hot shepherd’s pie out. He plated two pieces to cool for a moment before they sat down to start eating.

Were they actually doing the right thing? Crowley thought about that while they ate.

“Angel,” he said suddenly during their dinner conversation. “Is there any way we can go back and change the past?”

Aziraphale looked up at him, mid-bite. “I don’t know. Messing around with time is not a type of magic I’ve ever dabbled in, let alone researched. It’s dangerous. Why are you bringing this up?”

“Just an odd thought,” replied Crowley, the sigil scar on his palm suddenly itching like crazy. Why would it do that now when it never had before? “I was thinking that I can stop time, so why can’t I do other things with it.”

Flexing his hand the best he could while holding his fork, he decided he really needed to concentrate on figuring out that dream or whatever happened in his cell. It was if the sigil was telling him he was on the right track here.

“I have spell books in the library. Some are quite old and don’t have indexes, but we can go through them if we’re careful about it.” The angel didn’t look too enthusiastic about it, but he seemed willing to indulge Crowley’s desire to learn more.

“Then let’s do that. I think time has something to do with the scar.”

Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably. Messing around with time was a risky business. Maybe showing Crowley the complex spells that would have to be performed would get him out of this mindset of his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning quote -- _The Farewell_, Sanhita Baruah


	8. Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is anonymously passing on information he hears in the library to those resisting. Crowley fears discovery could mean they're separated from each other permanently. Celion returns from his time off. Are Aziraphale and Crowley safe or are they taking too long planning their next move?

Crowley was shelving books when more angels exchanging more information came into the library. This time it seemed a larger town in the Second Circle had passed some decrees making it a crime punishable by fine to speak out against the treatment of demons. A lot of library patrons were not happy about this. Some didn’t like how slaves and prisoners of war were treated; others were worried about a crackdown starting on the freedom to speak your mind.

“I have friends over in Halo’s Edge and they said they have to be careful about anything they say against the town council for fear law enforcement will detain and question them,” one angel was whispering to her companion.

“I wouldn’t live in that Circle for anything. I hear Uriel kissed Gabriel’s butt enough to get it assigned to her and we all know how paranoid she is.”

“Seventh’s worse. Sandalphon has that one. They’re clamping down on anyone who speaks ill of the government.”

“How long until we’re all suspect?”

“I don’t know. But I’ve seen angels who are slaves out there. It’s rare and there aren’t any in this sector, but it’s happening. This isn’t what we were promised when we won the war.”

So, old Gabe was handing out choice assignments to his cronies and those who opposed them were being silenced. Figured. Crowley snorted silently as he rearranged shelves to fit some new additions to the stacks in. Aziraphale, who was getting work done at the front desk, caught his attention; Crowley nodded slightly.

“Crowley, come here, please.”

“Yes, sir.” The demon headed over wondering what his partner needed. 

Aziraphale had written down the information overheard in the library along with the names of angels passing it along. He put it inside of a damaged book that he handed to Crowley. Taking it, Crowley gave him a puzzled look. Aziraphale could get into trouble keeping such information. 

“Take that upstairs and put it on the shelf where I keep books in need of repair.”

Crowley just nodded with a questioning look on his face.

_I’ll tell you later_, Aziraphale mouthed before Crowley turned and left.

Crowley climbed the stairs to their flat, walking to the lounge bookshelves where on the bottom shelf Aziraphale stored the damaged books from the library he repaired. Sliding the book on the shelf, he took out another one, taking a moment to flip through it. Then another and another. A couple had information on resistance efforts or gossip from unhappy angels in them. Crowley’s blood chilled. Aziraphale could not be playing a dangerous game like this. They had their plan and it was foolish to deviate from it.

Taking a moment to get his emotions under control, he put the last book he took out back in its place and went back downstairs to see what other eavesdropping he could do. The information was useful, but saving it somewhere other than their own minds was chancy.

“What time is it?” Aziraphale asked him when he came back down. 

“About 11:30, sir.”

“Ok, lock the doors. We’ll have lunch when this group leaves.”

Crowley nodded, locking the doors so no more angels could enter. Hopefully the crowd would leave soon so he could ask Aziraphale what the hell he was up to. Crowley’s fear was that whatever Aziraphale was doing was going to get them discovered and they’d be separated before they could escape. Permanently this time.

He tried to keep within hearing distance of them while not letting them know he was there, putting his lurking skills to good use, not that he enjoyed lurking. Sometimes a demon just had to lurk to get the job done. He picked up a bit more information.

Angels were becoming restless because a lot of promises were broken. The way they talked in here, the Fourth Circle was becoming a powder keg and it wouldn’t be long before it blew. Some were bored. Some felt they were sold a bill of goods. Some were outright upset. They didn’t like the government structure was operating and many didn’t approve of slaves. As much as they didn’t like demons and were happy they were permanently sealed in Hell, most angels also didn’t really want to see bad treatment of them. Not that many cared about demons being harmed, _per se_, but nobody wanted to view beatings and abuse taking place in the streets. The new Heaven after the war had been touted as a place of peace where an angel could follow whatever pursuits they fancied, but it was hard to be that when brutality was taking place on the streets and complaints were viewed with paranoia by their leaders. They were promised Paradise and got a lousy reproduction of it instead.

The last of the angels left the library, careful to trickle out slowly to cover their activities. Aziraphale was torn between allowing the gossip to continue here and putting a stop to it before someone who shouldn’t notice did. He’d discuss that with Crowley since such information could be useful to their cause.

He pulled the roller blinds, putting up the sign that said they’d be open again in an hour’s time as the demon glared at him. 

“What?”

“You’re writing all this down? Why, angel? We could get into so much trouble.” Crowley crossed the distance between them and hugged him fiercely. “I can’t lose you again because if I do, they’ll make sure it’s permanent.”

“Nobody is going to go through my books looking for seditious writings,” Aziraphale replied in too airy of a tone to be totally convincing. He picked up a book off the chair by the window and put it on the front desk for shelving later. “I send them anonymously to those I know are planning to oppose the changes. It helps them.”

“Are you barking? Gabriel invaded your personal space and looked in every room. Remember that, Aziraphale?”

“He wouldn’t go through books because he’s not that interested in them. They’d slide right off his mind.” The angel walked towards the stairs. “I’ll be careful. I just want to keep track of what’s going on where and help those who need it. If we can figure out a pattern, it’ll be helpful to us, too, I think. We can plan our activities around serious happenings so we don’t get noticed.”

“Then we need to develop a code to make it look innocent,” Crowley replied as he followed him. “I don’t know . . . make it look like plans to the cottage gardens or something. And you need to stop sending stuff off before we’re discovered. There is too much to lose here.”

“Your idea is clever, Crowley. I would have never thought of that.” Aziraphale smiled at him as he made for the kitchen to put together some sandwiches with some fresh fruit for a quick lunch. “One more reason I love you.”

“Now you’re just flattering me because I’m upset with you.”

“Maybe I am. Maybe I just want to butter you up for some fun after lunch.” Aziraphale turned as he heard Crowley approach, reaching out to grab ahold of him, pull him close and kiss him. 

His fingers scratched into Crowley’s wings, digging past the feathers into the flesh. Crowley hummed in response, putting down the orange slice he had picked up so he could set his own hands to roaming over Aziraphale’s body.

“Let’s just skip lunch,” he whispered to the angel, untangling himself long enough to lead him to the bedroom where he could lay him down on the tartan duvet, beautiful white wings splayed out beneath him. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

He unbuttoned Aziraphale’s waistcoat, untying the tartan bowtie before opening it up so he could get to his shirt to undo that as well. Staring down at his wonderful angel, he smiled as he ran a finger over one erect nipple, then the other, eliciting a purr from Aziraphale. Leaning forward, Crowley captured his lip in his teeth, nibbling carefully until Aziraphale’s fingers tightened in his wings as the angel made pleasurable sounds. Crowley moved on, kissing and biting his way down to Aziraphale’s nipples where he rolled one between his fingers as he ran his tongue tantalizingly over the other. 

Leaving the angel squirming, he sat up after a few minutes to remove both their trousers and pants as time was limited this round. They had a library to get back to minding. Grabbing the lube off the nightstand, Crowley dithered a bit as he idly played with Aziraphale’s cock, running his thumb across the head, precum leaking out to show how aroused Aziraphale was.

“Hmmm, now do I want to stick it in your arse or would I rather ride you?”

“Crowley, please . . .” Aziraphale begged. “I don’t care . . . I just want you.” He writhed on the bed, sky blue eyes showing how much he desired his demon.

“I could just suck on it but not let you come. Be in charge for once.” Crowley grinned at that thought, but it was bravado. He was coating himself in lube as he spoke, preparing to enter Aziraphale.

“You wouldn’t, foul fiend.” And the angel was incoherent after that.

Crowley was on top of him; Aziraphale finding himself invaded on a couple of different levels. He rocked his hips with Crowley’s encouragement as the demon snaked his tongue into his mouth in an insistent kiss while his cock seated itself deep inside Aziraphale. His hands were at Aziraphale’s wrists, pinning them down partially on the bed, partially on his own feathers. The angel whimpered at the restriction, loving that Crowley was taking charge like this. Sex had been rather gentle up to this point and Aziraphale wouldn’t do rough stuff to Crowley, given what he’d been through, but would happily take it on Crowley’s terms.

“I love you,” Crowley whispered in a rare verbal validation of their adoration, speaking the words while his lips were still on Aziraphale’s. If he said it at all, the “I” was rarely present.

Aziraphale all but melted, finding response difficult. “I love you too, dear.”

It pushed him over the edge, causing him to climax with Crowley. He felt the slick warm wetness hit his belly, thinking it away before it spilled off on to his shirt or waistcoat. The demon had moved away from his ear to muffle his shouts in the pillow, his arms shaking as he pushed off of Aziraphale a bit reluctantly.

“I wish we had time to cuddle,” he said sadly as he helped Aziraphale to a sitting position and started buttoning his shirt up again. Kisses were placed on his collarbone before Crowley rebuttoned the top few and smoothed out the untied bowtie. “You’ll have to tie that. Never did learn how to do bowties. Those were always your style, not mine.”

“Thank you, my love. I can handle it from here,” Aziraphale told him with a smile. “You get yourself cleaned up then go eat lunch. I don’t want to see you downstairs for another hour, ok?”

He kissed Crowley on the nose.

“Yes, master.”

“Do not start. I’m simply looking out for your health.”

“All right. All right.” Crowley gave him one last loving embrace complete with kiss before gathering up his clothes and stalking off to the bathroom.

~*~*~

The diagrams Crowley drew incorporated the data collected from comments made by angels visiting the library resembled nothing like a subversive document. To anyone but him and Aziraphale they looked like gardening plans. Aziraphale picked them up, his brow wrinkling as he looked over the sheets.

“Where did you learn to do this? Your knowledge astounds me sometimes, my dear. You still have a lot of secrets.”

“I do read, you know. I had gardening books and I had hoped maybe someday to have a house with a garden but that never panned out.” Crowley pointed out the code. “The cottage is First Circle and all the garden plots around it are the other Circles. The ones closer to the lake are just plots there to throw off anyone who might look at this closely. They don’t mean anything. The different types of plants listed represent different things we’ve heard. For example, lavender represents complaints about Circle governments quelling speech. I’ll teach you what all the plants are and you’ll have to remember the code.”

“I hope I can recall all that.”

“I’ll have to start planting the gardens like that to make the diagrams that more authentic, but I picked plants I like and would work well in the gardens for the code.” Crowley grinned.

“Of course you would.” Aziraphale kissed him. His hand brushed the collar as he brought it up to caress Crowley’s fiery red hair and he inwardly shuddered at the touch. They had learned to ignore it for the most part, but Aziraphale still hated when he came in contact with it.

Crowley still noticed. “Hey, try not to worry about it,” he said softly. “We’re moving forward and with things heating up, it’s all the better for us. What Circle is our cottage in, anyway?”

“Fourth.”

Crowley pulled out all Aziraphale’s notes, spreading them across the kitchen table. “Fourth . . . Fourth . . . oh yes, Fourth.”

“A lot is happening there, apparently,” said Aziraphale, picking up some pages to scan over. “Nobody has many specifics, it seems but there are many who are unhappy about how things run.”

“Maybe we should be spending more time in town when we’re there. See what’s going on and if we can use it as a distraction.”

“Maybe we should.”

“Can I burn these notes now?” asked Crowley, gathering them all up. “I’d feel better if they didn’t exist anymore.”

“If you’re done with them, I have no need for them,” Aziraphale replied. He didn’t tell Crowley he was still sending information off to his contacts.

Crowley grabbed a lighter out of a kitchen drawer and lit the bunch on fire on a baking sheet he situated on the cooker. Some of his concerns went up in smoke with the papers. One less thing to worry about. Let anyone try to figure out his garden code, he thought smugly.

The coded plans he shoved in the front of a gardening book that he put back on the shelf in the lounge like it was just another innocent volume. Aziraphale had taken care of the ashes left from the pages, sweeping them into the bin once they had cooled. 

“I want to start looking into spells about time. Changing it. Time travel. Anything doing with time,” said Crowley. 

Aziraphale’s face fell when he heard that. He thought over the past couple of days Crowley had forgotten about that. True, he had agreed to show him in hopes that maybe Crowley would get over his curiosity about such dangerous spells, but not showing him at all and having him forget about it was even better. “That’s not a safe thing to be researching, Crowley. But I do have a few books containing known time travel spells in the back. They’re restricted these days but I doubt anyone will notice if I take them off the shelves. I can always say I’d rather they’re not in circulation at all given how volatile times are lately.”

“Can you miracle up copies of them without Gabriel noticing?”

“Most likely. He doesn’t pay attention to miracles used anymore since he has his hands full with other problems. Why?”

Crowley was staring at his scar. “I think it’s better than taking them off the shelves. Now is not the time to be drawing attention to ourselves.”

“That scar’s telling you things, isn’t it?”

The demon shrugged, stretching out on the couch lazily, his head in Aziraphale’s lap. “It just might be. When I first mentioned time spells, it started itching. It throbbed a bit when I suggested making copies.”

“That is weird.” Aziraphale took his hand, examining the sigil scar carefully. He did a small miracle on it, causing the whole sigil to light up with a magenta-coloured glow. “It was magically made, but I can’t trace down whose signature it is.”

“That’s unusual,” commented Crowley. 

“It’s from the future.” Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s hand in concern. “That can’t be. Crowley, we can’t do this. We can’t talk about time travel or look up spells or do anything that dangerous. It’ll destroy us.”

“Yes, we can. And we should. Because if that mark’s from the future, we’ve already done it.”

Aziraphale’s sky blue eyes clouded over with worry.

“I need to access that memory. I need to know what you said to me and why.”

“It wasn’t me.”

Crowley sat up. “It had to be you. It’s your writing, angel and you showed up to tell me something important that I stupidly forgot. I must remember it or the sigil would go away, don’t you think?”

“Crowley, I’m not comfortable with this,” Aziraphale said after a long pause. 

That was all he would say on the matter as he stood up and headed to the bedroom, silencing any further discussion on the matter. Crowley joined him later, wisely deciding to keep his mouth shut on the matter for now. Aziraphale would come around. He had to or the sigil would have not reappeared. Crowley just had to give him some time. 

~*~*~

Gabriel knocked on the door of Celion’s office, the other angel looking up at him from his paperwork. He had just returned from two weeks at a resort in the Fifth Circle and had a lot to catch up on. He cordially nodded at the Archangel in his bespoke grey suit that complimented his lavender-tinged wings. 

“So, how’s it going?” Gabriel asked. “You look well-rested.”

“I feel a lot better, thanks,” replied Celion, trying not to feel resentment at Gabriel’s intrusion. 

He was barely in Gabriel’s Department in the first place. If things had been divided up fairly, he would have been in Michael’s, which covered the enforcement of laws and the fighting forces. Gabriel handled information and communication.

“No more feeling like you need to look over Aziraphale’s shoulder or covet his slave?”

“No.” Celion wasn’t going to admit he thought almost constantly about Aziraphale’s demon while he was gone. “Although I have given back my own slave. It just wasn’t working out. I need one that’s less timid; that won’t burst into tears when I give orders. But I’m not at all interested in Aziraphale’s anymore. When I’m ready I’ll pick out a new one from the cells. There are plenty of good ones still unclaimed.”

“Good to hear and I’m glad to have you back. Let me know if you need anything at all.”

Celion smiled falsely as Gabriel walked out again. He ran a hand through his stylishly cut dark hair in frustration before turning back to his paperwork.

“Idiot.”

He’d covertly go by the library later. If he was careful he could peer in a window or two to see how things were going, thinking it would be brilliant if he could catch Aziraphale not having control over that unbroken slave of his. Or look for any other acts of sedition going on. He didn’t trust the uptick in traffic in the library lately.

~*~*~

Gabriel’s next stop was the library where his presence quickly chased out most of the patrons. Crowley eyed him warily before slipping off to the backroom to listen in before he was noticed.

“Gabriel. To what pleasure do I owe this visit?” asked Aziraphale with a smile. 

“I’m just checking up on angels who had their slaves taken under Celion’s new law,” Gabriel replied, looking over the nearly empty library. “It seems he got it passed because he had some obsession over knowing everything he could about the local slaves. A bit of paranoia thanks to the issues we’ve had lately.”

“Well, I got mine back in one piece and he didn’t have anything to say about it, really. Just that he was given information on what happens now to slaves who try to revolt.” Aziraphale gripped the book he was holding until he was almost white-knuckled, trying to keep his nerves at bay. 

“That’s good. I’m talking to the Council about getting that law rescinded. I think it would just be easier to pass that information along in a different manner. We don’t have the time or resources to be telling slaves in small groups. We might hold a seminar for owners. It could be their duty to make sure slaves know the consequences of their actions.”

“That sounds more reasonable. I know I simply can’t have his routine interrupted all the time. It makes it hard to get work done. I’m sure other angels feel the same way.”

“I completely agree,” replied the Archangel. “Thank you for your opinion on it. I’m going to mention what owners say to the Council. It’ll help my cause, I think. Well, I have others to talk to about this. Have a good one.”

Aziraphale sighed in relief as Gabriel exited. Crowley reappeared, his lip curled up in dislike for Aziraphale’s boss.

“I don’t trust him. Or Celion.”

“Neither do I, my dear. The sooner we get out of here, the better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning quote -- _A Letter From Li Po _, Conrad Aiken


	9. Obsession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Can I help you find something, sir?” Crowley asked numbly, the panic rising in his chest. Where was Aziraphale? Gabriel was only supposed to keep him for a moment._
> 
> _“There is something I want, but it’s checked out right now. I’m just gong to have to wait until it’s returned,” Celion purred as he approached, Crowley backing off the best he could. “I dismissed my own slave, but I have a replacement in mind. Guess who it is?”_
> 
> _He grinned terribly. Crowley swallowed an anxious feeling, praying Aziraphale showed up here soon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for a scene with nonconsensual touching above the waist. If that makes you uncomfortable, skip the second section of this chapter.

_My fantasy has turned to madness _ _  
And all my goodness has turned to badness  
My need to possess you has consumed my soul  
  
_

The dirt in Heaven was perfect, Crowley noted with a roll of his eyes as he dug in one of the gardens on the cottage grounds, preparing it for planting. It seemed an odd activity for a demon more interested in the finer things in life, like fine art, fine dining and fine vintage cars, but there was something about making plants flourish that appealed to him, even without threatening them.

Aziraphale was nearby, placing pots of plants to go into this particular garden at its edge in easy reach of Crowley.

“How often does it rain in Heaven?” Crowley asked. “I haven’t paid much attention.”

“Enough things grow perfectly,” replied Aziraphale. “Of course it could not rain and things would still grow.”

Crowley stuck a hellebore in the hole he just dug. “Where’s the challenge, then?” 

“We’re just keeping up appearances, remember?” Aziraphale paused. “Aren’t those plants poisonous?”

“Yeah, but who cares? Nobody’s going to be eating them.”

“Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale smiled affectionately. “I’m going to go start lunch. It should be ready in about half an hour.”

“Ok.”

Crowley patted dirt around the plant then started digging another hole to put the next one in. He was following his diagrams, effectively transferring their code into the garden itself. It was the best cover he could give them – gardening diagrams that were actually being used. And a slave to do the actual work.

The information they had gathered pointed to the largest city in the Fourth Circle blowing at any time now. Angels were restless and there hadn’t been any crackdown by the local government. It was only a matter of time before some ordinance was passed that sent emotions over the top. Then would be their chance to act. He could only hope it happened while they were visiting. 

Crowley carefully tugged the plant he chose from its pot and set it in the hole. Using his trowel to push dirt around it he filled in the trench left around it, idly letting his mind wander to other subjects. What was Earth like now? Was there anything left at all except Tadfield? Would they have to head down there towards the Earth itself before making their escape or would it just be easier to transfer from the celestial plane to the physical one while heading up into the cosmos itself?

What about Adam and the remaining humans? He seemed such a nice kid, but Crowley shouldn’t have been surprised when his arguments failed. It was two against one and a single disgraced demon who couldn’t explain the ineffable Plan as well as his angelic counterpart was bound to screw it up. He had let humanity down; now there were only a handful of that interesting race left. Now all he could do was save his own skin along with the skin of the angel he loved. It felt almost like a consolation prize next to the deaths of billions. But he shouldn’t feel like that. He was a demon. Demons were not known for their empathy. Human life shouldn’t matter to him.

Unfortunately, it did.

He sat there for quite some time feeling the weight of his failure. 

A hand lightly touched his shoulder. “Crowley?”

He looked up at Aziraphale, the pain evident on his face. “I failed. Humanity is all but gone and the Earth destroyed because I couldn’t give the proper pep talk to an eleven-year-old.”

The angel crouched beside him. “You did what you could, my dear. I didn’t even make it there. I was bouncing around between bodies desperately trying to find one in the right area. Then I was pulled Heavenward and that was that. They found me, said they were glad I changed my mind because the war had begun and I was issued a new body, a new sword and some armour. At that point I just went along with it because I had to find you.” He stood up. “Come on. Let’s go inside. I think you need a few cuddles and we just can’t do that where we can be seen.”

They settled in the lounge on the grey couch with tartan throw pillows. Aziraphale took Crowley’s head in his hands, regarding the demon with a look of admiration. Crowley’s brow furrowed in confusion as he put his own hands on Aziraphale’s wrists.

“You are the bravest being I know,” the angel said to him. “You have been through so much lately but came out unbent by it. Look at the other demons around you and see how broken they are while you’re not. You did what you could and it’s not your fault. I’m the one who failed you.”

“No, you didn’t,” Crowley choked out from around tears. And that’s all he could say, repeating the phrase over and over as they embraced. Finally he was able to get out, “You’ve been there for me since Gabriel dropped me on your doorstep.”

The experimental curry Aziraphale had put together with the help of a new recipe from a fellow angel sat on the counter cooling as the two of them comforted each other on the couch. Lunch could wait. Some things were entirely too important to ignore. They curled up together, spooning with Aziraphale on the outside holding and protecting his demon. Tears finally wiped away, they lay there until Crowley calmed enough to doze off. Aziraphale didn’t disturb him, staying right where he was to keep watch over his partner until he awoke.

~*~*~

All Celion could catch Crowley doing was shelving books, checking out materials to angels and other library duties Aziraphale assigned to him. His covert mission to catch either of them tripping up was so far a failure. Either Aziraphale had turned over a new leaf, which Celion doubted, or they were especially careful about their activities while in the public eye. He had to get a spy out to that cottage of Aziraphale’s somehow. He’d bet anything they were less careful there.

It didn’t help Aziraphale kept his demon pretty much isolated. Crowley never left the library itself anymore and Celion had it on good word that the two of them went for daily walks during their time at the cottage, but Aziraphale was careful to keep his slave on a leash. 

Celion could understand the need to keep a tight watch on Crowley given his notoriety. He was the Serpent and the one who tried to stop the war. Letting that snake out of his sight was not a good idea if Aziraphale intended on having a functioning slave.

But still the status that could come with having the Serpent of Eden as your personal servant. To have Crowley as part of his household on display to show everyone his influence . . . oh, what Celion would give for that. Aziraphale had no idea the gift he had been given.

If he could show Aziraphale was still not in complete accordance with Heaven, maybe he could get him sent to the cells as well. He had enough clout to claim them both despite having a slave being a “one per customer” type of setup right now. Owning the pair was still a thought that filled his dreams.

Aziraphale had been called over to Gabriel’s office this afternoon, leaving Crowley running the library alone. The place was empty, being that it was lunchtime. Celion jumped on the chance to talk to Crowley without interference.

The demon froze, even his wings stiffening, the book he was repairing minor damage on sliding off his hands on to the desktop as Celion walked in. The angel smiled maliciously at him. 

“So, little demon. How’s the stint as a librarian working out for you?”

“Can I help you find something, sir?” Crowley asked numbly, the panic rising in his chest. Where was Aziraphale? Gabriel was only supposed to keep him for a moment.

“There is something I want, but it’s checked out right now. I’m just gong to have to wait until it’s returned,” Celion purred as he approached, Crowley backing off the best he could. “I dismissed my own slave, but I have a replacement in mind. Guess who it is?”

He grinned terribly. Crowley swallowed an anxious feeling, praying Aziraphale showed up here soon.

“I’m surprised he was given permission to allow you to work alone in here. You should be chained upstairs while he’s gone.” Celion kept pushing closer, backing Crowley into a corner between a wall and a bookshelf.

“I behave myself, sir,” replied the panicked demon. “I have a good placement here I don’t want to screw up.”

The sound of his shallow breathing was music to the angel’s ears. There was nothing like having a demon fear you, especially a demon who held such interest for you. His body pinned Crowley’s to the corner, his hand caressing the demon’s arm then that unusual hair. His hips involuntarily almost rolled on to Crowley’s. He caught himself before contact was more than a brush against him. This was not appropriate conduct for an angel; best not to go too far. 

Bending close to Crowley’s ear he whispered. “I shall have you someday, little demon. Mark my words.”

With a grand hand gesture, he transported out of the library. Crowley collapsed into the corner, doing his best to compose himself before a patron walked in the door. He finally got his hands to quit shaking when Aziraphale returned fifteen minutes later.

“Hello, my dear,” he said breezily. “How did it go?”

“Celion stopped by to remind me he was watching us,” Crowley answered, managing to keep emotion out of his voice as he emptied the bin behind the slot to put returned books in. “We need to move soon, I think. It’s going to get hard to do anything if he’s keeping us under constant surveillance.”

Aziraphale went pale. “Then we take a long holiday to the cottage. I’ll ask Gabriel for time off.”

~*~*~

Michael shuffled dispassionately through her paperwork. “I’m sorry, but there is nothing I can do. It’s not my department. Besides, your obsession is starting to get noticed. I’m not going to get involved in something that will cause me to lose favour. I have a good position here.”

She stood up and gestured towards the door, indicating to Celion the meeting was over. But he didn’t make a move to leave.

“Come on, Michael,” he replied in his smoothest tones. “You figured out their game once. You could do it again.”

“Aziraphale repented. He admitted being taken in by that demon and to his mistakes. He even showed his loyalty to Heaven by fighting in the war. That’s more than I can say for some.” Michael’s cold blue eyes pierced Celion’s steel grey ones.

“But think of the glory if you could pull down the redeemed one. Think of the favour you could curry with the Council if you exposed a traitor in our midst.”

“Out,” she all but yelled, pointing stiffly at the door. “I’m not particularly fond of Aziraphale. He comes across as a complete idiot, but I don’t have time for this nonsense. There are still pockets of rebellion out there I’m trying to quell. Good day, Celion.”

Frustrated, Celion stormed out. He was going to have to take matters into his own hands. 

Heading back to his office, he sat in it in silence with the door shut after telling his assistant he was not to be disturbed. It was time to formulate a plan.

~*~*~

The news wasn’t the best, but it was better than nothing. Aziraphale would be allowed Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays at the cottage but had to run the library the rest of the week. They were just going to have to be extra careful when it came to being out in public.

Crowley sunk into a bit of a depression Aziraphale couldn’t break him out of. He rarely left the flat anymore, only coming down to help when the library got really busy. At the cottage he spent most of his time on the gardens, if only to keep their cover up. 

Meanwhile, small acts of sedition started cropping up in Celeste, the town nearest the cottage, mostly in the form of graffiti written on businesses that said phrases such as “Send the slaves back to Hell!” and “Peace in Heaven!” It was quickly cleaned up, but between it and the tension that could be felt; it wouldn’t be long before things exploded. Aziraphale figured that would happen as soon as the local government started cracking down on speech against it.

He was nervous about being in town but they had to run errands once in a while and they did really need to keep an eye on the state of events. Crowley only came along because Aziraphale would no longer leave him alone here at the cottage or back at the library. But given how demons were not allowed out by themselves anymore, nobody blinked an eye at the angel bringing his demon along for errands. Crowley carried packages when they bought items, making it seem like he was there for a purpose rather than just to keep anyone who could harm him from having contact with him outside of Aziraphale’s presence.

Celion’s spies had little to report back to him other than Crowley was working on the gardens at the cottage and playing pack mule in town when Aziraphale ran errands. 

“What’s going on inside that cottage?” the frustrated department head demanded.

“We don’t know,” one of the spies replied. “It’s not like we can get that close without being discovered and Aziraphale never leaves his slave home alone. Honestly, I don’t blame him with all that’s going on. It’s getting tense out there. He’s spending less and less time in town every time he heads out to that cottage.”

Back said cottage, Aziraphale sat reading a novel on the couch with Crowley leaning up against him going through spell books for time-changing incantations. The spies had been noticed, so they were careful to keep the roller blinds drawn at night and not engage in any displays of affection during the day. It was starting to take its toll on them.

“I’m still not comfortable with you going through those spell books,” Aziraphale said stiffly. 

“And we have to get out of here before Celion pulls some stunt that separates us forever.”

“Everyone thinks he’s going mad. I wonder how long it will be before he’s removed from his position and told to go retire to another Circle. Quietly.”

“It would do you well to remember we’re the center of his insane attention,” snapped Crowley irritably as he put the book he was leafing through down and picked up another one. 

Aziraphale went back to reading without commenting. They read on in silence until bedtime when Aziraphale took Crowley to the bedroom where he kissed him all over as soon as the demon had stripped down to his black boxers. Crowley, ever the one to forgive his angel his naïve views on life, sighed in contentment, drawing Aziraphale into a close loving embrace.

“Tadfield,” he said suddenly. “The airbase there, remember? It just popped into my mind.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale appeared puzzled by the sudden exclamation from Crowley. “Well, the Apocalypse did start there. Why wouldn’t we just think about it once in a while? Everything changed then.”

“I don’t know,” the reply came slowly as Crowley thought. “I try not to think about what happened, angel. I just can’t relive how much I failed everyone. Literally everyone from you to the human race. You don’t know how badly I want to go back and fix it. Maybe if we can just get you into a receptive body, you’d be able to convince the Antichrist with me. Arguments from both sides instead of just one.”

“This is just too convoluted, Crowley. It can’t be. Let’s get some sleep and see how things look in the morning.”

“They’ll look the same,” protested the demon. “I wish you could see that.”

“We can’t use that kind of magic here. We’ll get caught.” Aziraphale placed kisses at Crowley’s Adam’s apple, running his tongue along the skin there above his collar.

“What if we don’t? What if we find the spells needed, put the books in a bubble dimension and perform them when we’re at Alpha Centauri? We’ll be at leisure there and if we fail, have a safe place to live. _Oh_!” 

There, Aziraphale was getting a response. He felt Crowley’s hands tighten on his arse. Maybe he could get his mind off time travel.

“Maybe we can, but right now I want you.” 

He coaxed Crowley into bed where the discussion was abandoned. Tenderly the angel made love to his demon, hoping the attention he was bestowing upon him was enough to keep his mind from wandering back onto uncomfortable subjects for a while. This line of thought Crowley was following was becoming dangerous. Time travel was nothing to mess with, even in their current situation. They had to accept the Earth was gone and there was nothing they could do to save it. All they could do was free themselves from this nightmare.

“Come for me,” he whispered to Crowley after making sure his demon was all but properly satisfied, thrusting deeper inside of him. 

And Crowley did, his voice reaching crescendo as his fingers nearly tore out some of Aziraphale’s coverts. He wrapped his arms around the angel too tired to argue anymore about dangerous doings. A peaceful night of sleep followed instead with him feeling the calming weight of Aziraphale oh his chest. 

He didn’t go back to the argument the next morning, either, rising before Aziraphale to cook breakfast. The angel came out to the smell of frying eggs and sausage. Crowley was buttering some toast to put on the table with the other offerings as he entered. 

“Hello, my dear. Breakfast looks delicious.”

“I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep. Thought I’d do something useful.” Crowley put the plate of toast between the table settings, eggs already on those plates. The sausage sat on a platter beside a pitcher of orange juice.

Aziraphale kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you. Sit down. I’ll get the coffee and tea.”

“Miracle them up. I don’t care.”

Aziraphale did just that, making sure Crowley’s coffee was exactly the way he liked it. They sat together discussing the next phase of their garden plans, avoiding any topic that might cause controversy. Breakfast was too delicious to ruin with an argument. 

They were doing the washing up when Aziraphale’s Heaven-issued mobile rang. He personally would have never had one, but Gabriel all but forced a work one on him so he could reach him at a moment’s notice even though his role in government was minor and related entirely to the library. 

“Yes?” he said, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. 

Crowley was watching him carefully. The angel’s face fell then a few seconds later his sky blue eyes showed considerable alarm. Something was up in the capital city. Was it serious enough they’d have to return?

“Ok, I’ll return as soon as I can.” He hung up the mobile. 

“What’s up?” Crowley asked as casually as possible.

“They’re going to start cracking down here so Gabriel wants me back here before all hell breaks loose. So much for our escape plan.”

“Not necessarily. Let things calm down and they’ll build back up again, most likely,” replied Crowley. “I saw enough revolutions on Earth to know how things go. And angels know nothing about quelling them, so all the better.”

Reluctantly they started packing to head back early.

~*~*~

A small group of angels, all members of law enforcement, stood in Celion’s office waiting to hear his offer.

“Just plant evidence in the library?” one asked.

“Yes,” Celion replied. “I know the Principality who runs it is up to something, but I can’t catch him doing anything seditious. It’s odd that library was dead a few months ago, but now has plenty of patrons visiting it, some who are suspected of being part of the rebellion. And someone in town was feeding the rebellion information. The leader we arrested yesterday was caught with bundles of information on the unrest that were mailed to her anonymously. Just plant the evidence and we’ll do a search, ok?”

“What do we get for doing this?” another wondered.

“Slaves of your own. How does that sound?”

The one who asked smiled. “I like the sound of that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Quote -- _Obsession_, Anamotion


	10. Over the Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley make their bid to slip out of Heaven. The demons who escaped to Earth during the demon rebellion finally make it to Tadfield where they hope to tell their story to the Antichrist. But Celion's actions may put everything in jeopardy.

_Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,  
Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky  
Gives us free scope, only doth backward pull  
Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull._

Being confined was getting to Crowley, but there wasn’t much that could be done about it. Aziraphale felt bad for him, but until they got clearance to return to the cottage where he had a few acres of freedom, he was pretty much stuck in the library and flat. Aziraphale didn’t dare take him out in public since the crackdown had spread across Heaven to even Empyrean. Angels were wary of demons on the streets, even though they now had to be in the presence of their owners when out and about.

The irony was that there was only one attempt at revolt by the demons. All other instances were instigated by angels.

“We’re leaving the next time we can go back,” Aziraphale promised one morning when he could no longer take seeing Crowley brought so low by all this. “We’ll go for a walk under the cover of night and never return.” 

“You sure?” Crowley sat up in bed, leaning on an elbow, not ready to believe they were going to finally make this a reality.

“Positive,” replied Aziraphale, caressing Crowley’s hair as he rubbed a thumb along his cheekbone. “I’ve spent the past couple of weeks working on a spell to make a copy of your skin, since that’s what keeps the leather collar’s magic working.”

“Do you know how disgusting that sounds?” Crowley flopped back on his pillow, encased in a black pillowcase of fine silk because that’s how he liked it.

“Yes, but if I can work a reasonable copy of your skin around the inside of it, it’ll continue to nullify the tracking spell so we have one less thing to worry about when we break your metal collar off.”

“True, but it’s still disgusting.”

“You’re just stroppy because of this whole situation,” Aziraphale leaned over to give him a kiss. “I don’t blame you one bit, my dear.”

“I can’t keep going like this, angel. This flat’s become a prison.”

“I know, my love. I do know.” Aziraphale ran his hands through Crowley’s red hair again, wishing to see his demon happy.

~*~*~

Gabriel was speaking with Michael in the privacy of his house where he was sure no others could pick up their conversation. Nobody was to be trusted anymore with the unrest in the city. They sat in his lounge, having just been served coffee by his slave.

“We have to convince the Council to remove him from office. His obsession with Crowley is interfering with his ability to perform his duties. We can’t have him starting a revolt next to get what he wants,” Gabriel said. “It makes me nervous he’s started hanging around with members of law enforcement. You’ll keep an eye on them, won’t you?”

“Of course,” said Michael, her perfectly coiffed hair not even moving as she nodded in agreement. “I don’t trust him at all. I never liked Aziraphale on a personal level, but he is doing his job well. I wonder if all his strange behaviour before the War could be attributed to Crowley’s influence because he’s fallen in with the Council’s line very well. There is no reason for Celion to be spreading around he’s a traitor and he deserves Crowley as a slave more than Aziraphale does.”

“I know. Celion didn’t even fight. He chose to stay up here, but Aziraphale was down there on the fields. His sword registered two demon kills, in fact. Does that sound like a traitor? It sounds like an angel who’s soft, but not one who’s in league with Hell,” Gabriel replied. “I have files of evidence I plan on presenting to the Council. If you could add some write-ups on his meeting with you and his activities with members of law enforcement, I’d appreciate it.”

Little did Gabriel know Aziraphale only killed in self-defense during his search for Crowley. But what the Archangel didn’t know wouldn’t hurt the Principality. 

“I’ll get those written up as soon as we’re done here,” agreed Michael. “So, how’s Uriel doing with her Circle? I hear Sandalphon’s had a bit of trouble.”

“Not bad,” said Gabriel. “Not bad at all. She’s handling the problems quite well. I know Sandalphon started off on the wrong foot, but he’ll settle in. The angels of his Circle will see he’s just trying to keep the peace. That’s all everyone is trying to do. This war should have ended the arguments once and for all. I don’t get the resistance.”

Michael nodded. “Me, neither. It should be perfect. I don’t know where everything went wrong.”

Neither of them realized everything went wrong when Heaven and Hell decided to upset the balance by removing Earth from the picture.

~*~*~

Brian raced into the playhouse in Hogback Wood, looking all over for Adam. He found him sitting on his throne morosely watching Pepper and Wensleydale argue over some minor issue in their game. Dog sniffed around the area, nosing through the leaves as he tried to follow the new scent he picked up.

Being the Antichrist wasn’t all it was cracked up to be even though he now got whatever he wanted. His friends, parents and others still existed and they made sure he was happy as much as he made sure they all were. The Tadfield area was perfect – loved beyond belief by the eleven-year-old who ruled it; its inhabitants kept content by their benevolent overlord. But it was exhausting. He had a whole village of people to think things up to do and keep from being upset. The games were wearing thin now. He just wanted to be a kid again.

More discontent and squabbling were happening as each day passed. How long could he hold it together before the last remains of the human race fell into chaos?

Maybe he should have listened to the snake-eyed demon who tried to convince him ending things was not in his best interest. Crowley, that was the demon’s name. He knew because Crowley, along with an angel named Aziraphale kept showing up in his dreams. A female voice from the clouds showed him pictures of the two saying he needed to get them down to Earth to make things right again. The voice said she’d give him more details once it came closer to the time. He had no idea what that meant.

How was he supposed to get them here anyway? The demon was locked away in Hell if Beelzebub hadn’t killed him off like they swore they would and the angel was up in Heaven. Heaven hadn’t contacted him since the dreams started coming, so it wasn’t like he could make a deal with them to get Aziraphale down here.

“Adam!” 

He shook himself from his reverie to see his friend approaching. “Hi Brian, what’s up?”

“Demons! They’re just outside the bubble and they say they need to speak to you.”

“Demons? But they’re all supposed to be locked in Hell. C’mon!”

They raced off, Pepper, Wensley and Dog following in hot pursuit. The edge of the safe area wasn’t too far from their fort. They reached it in no time at all to find two demons waiting for them looking tired and dressed in rags. Adam allowed them entrance into the area.

“Don’t start messing around,” he warned them. “I can stop you, you know.”

He conjured up chairs for everyone to sit on, his friends surrounding him like a court. Brian and Pepper just eyed the demons suspiciously while Wensley looked a bit frightened.

“I think I want to go home,” he said.

“Shh,” hissed Pepper. “Just stay put. Adam won’t let them harm us.”

Adam ignored them, staring down the demons instead. “You lot’s supposed to be locked up in Hell. You can’t get up here. What’s going on?”

“Heaven lied to you, Master Adam,” said one of the demons.

“Just Adam’s fine,” interrupted the boy. “Go on.”

“Heaven never released the captured demons. They’re being held as slaves for the angels.” 

The two demons took turns explaining everything that had happened to them from the time of their own captures until their escape to Tadfield to locate him, telling him about the plight of the slaves in Heaven. Adam listened impassively at first, but his facial expressions soon changed to interest then anger the more he heard.

“That’s not right. They were supposed to follow the rules,” he said when the demons were finished with their tale. “No, this isn’t right. No wonder I keep having those dreams. It needs to be fixed.”

“But how do we get a hold of Heaven? Not like we can call them,” asked Brian.

“They send angels down asking permission to rebuild Earth, stupid,” replied Pepper. “We can talk to them the next time some show up.”

“I’m not stupid!”

Adam glared at them, silencing both. “I keep having these dreams. This woman’s voice from the clouds tells me I need to find a demon named Crowley and an angel named Aziraphale. Bring them down here to Earth. I thought it was just random stuff like you dream. Maybe it’s not. But I don’t know how to get a demon here.”

“Maybe she says ‘down here’ because the demon’s up in Heaven, too,” suggested Wensleydale.

“Yeah. Maybe he is.” Adam brightened up. “You two know Crowley? I met him on the airfield. He tried to tell me not to end things.”

“I don’t know him personally,” said the first demon, whose name was Andreus. “Sorry.”

“I heard he was in the First Circle,” said the second, who went by Leach. “The angels paraded him around like a war trophy the rumours said. Real proud of themselves capturing the demon who got humans kicked out of Eden and tried to stop Armageddon. Probably got him rotting away in a cell there.”

“If I may ask, what are those two supposed to do?” inquired Andreus.

“Just make things right. My dreams don’t go into details.” Adam shrugged. “Heaven contacts me every once in a while. If they don’t soon, I’ll figure out how to talk to them. You two can stay here in the woods. Not in town, though, because you’ll scare people. “

With a casual wave, a small cottage appeared across the clearing from them. The demons thanked him and asked to be kept up to date on happenings.

“How do we make things right?” asked Brian as the Them trekked back to town for ice cream. 

“Dunno. But the dream said it would tell me once the demon and angel are here.”

“They’re just dreams, Adam . . .” Pepper interjected, a bit worried by all this.

“I don’t think they are. How can you say that after all we’ve done since last August? If Heaven and Hell and angels and demons and even me with my powers are real, so’s all my dreams.”

~*~*~

It was Aziraphale’s turn to get the coffee and tea ready for breakfast while Crowley finished frying up some hash browns. They were finally starting to get the hang of cooking. 

Setting the freshly made pot of coffee on the table with an empty mug, Aziraphale turned back to check on his steeping tea. Crowley plated the hash browns along with the eggs he had made while Aziraphale set the table. 

“You need to eat,” prompted Aziraphale after they sat down and he observed Crowley pushing his food around his plate. 

“Not hungry.”

“Please, Crowley? We’re down to the wire here.”

He ate about half of what was on his plate before heading to the bathroom for a hot shower. Aziraphale let him have some alone time, instead miracling the dishes clean and then taking care of other business like destroying their notes on Alpha Centauri, even though they looked like someone had just taken up astronomy as a hobby, and vanishing a copy of their “flight plans” into a bubble dimension. 

After forty-five minutes, he went to check on Crowley, who had yet to emerge from the shower. “Are you ok?”

“Fine. I just want to relax and think. Give me a couple and I’ll be out.”

“All right. If you want to talk about it, I’m here.” Aziraphale left the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

They were going to the cottage this weekend, Gabriel’s thoughts on the subject be damned. Aziraphale asked Crowley to start packing if he got bored and needed something to do before he headed down to open the library. 

Traffic was up through the library as angels checked out books and exchanged information. Something was up. One approached Aziraphale, sliding a book towards him. 

“Keep your eyes open. You’re in danger,” he whispered. “Celion. I can’t say any more than that. You might want to head to that cottage of yours and stay there.”

Aziraphale nodded solemnly. “Thank you,” he replied softly, saying out loud. “Enjoy your book.”

The rest of the afternoon was uneventful although Aziraphale spent it on edge. Upstairs Crowley had packed; they were now ready to flee to the cottage tonight after Aziraphale closed the library. He gave in to Crowley’s wheedling, putting the spell books on time travel into the bubble dimension with their plans. If it was that important to him, the angel decided maybe he should indulge him. Suddenly it seemed like every weapon they could have at their disposal might be important, no matter how dangerous.

“Are we packed?” Aziraphale asked the moment he got into the flat. “I’m nervous about this.”

“It’s all in the bedroom.”

Aziraphale strode quickly in there, changing Crowley’s pillow case back to match the rest of the bedding and taking Crowley’s clothes that he didn’t pack out of the wardrobe. Crowley was hot on his heels, relieving Aziraphale of half his burden.

“Sorry, I didn’t think about that.”

“No problem, my dear. Let’s just stick all your extra stuff in the wardrobe in the other room. I know the chances are pretty good we’re not coming back, but we need to cover all our tracks just in case. We’ll transport out. I’m not waiting around for a car.”

Crowley, looking concerned, squeezed his hand. “We ought to just leave tonight for the border. It’s getting too dangerous.”

A tinkle of glass was heard from downstairs. Aziraphale ran towards the front door, Crowley calling after him.

“No! Let’s get out of here.”

But it was too late. They found Celion himself blocking the door, smiling that oily grin of his. “Going somewhere, boys? Mighty suspicious to find seditious material in your library then you packing up to leave, Aziraphale.”

“Seditious material? Do you honestly think if I was at all involved in a rebellion I’d leave incriminating evidence all over a public space for you to simply find?” retorted Aziraphale. “What are you playing at?”

“Nobody said you were being smart about it. What did you see, guys?” Celion looked behind him.

In the hallway were two law enforcement angels, blocking any chance of exit, and separating Aziraphale from Crowley, who didn’t quite make it to Aziraphale’s side before they were ambushed. Aziraphale would not transport out without his partner. Whether Celion and his cronies had figured that out, the angel didn’t know.

“No. I saw him try to destroy the evidence and when I attempted to stop him, he ran upstairs to escape with his slave.”

“That’s a lie!” cried Aziraphale. 

He looked, terrified, at Crowley, who was trembling with pupils dilated wide in fear. _Transport, go_, the demon mouthed to him when nobody was looking at him.

“Take them in,” said Celion. “Put the demon in the cells and Aziraphale in an interrogation room so I can question him.”

“You can’t do this! You’re not even part of law enforcement!”

Celion laughed softly. “You’d be surprised what I can do with the influence I’ve built up, Principality.”

With a motion from him, Aziraphale and Crowley were handcuffed and led out.

~*~*~

Aziraphale sat in a windowless room equipped with a table and a few chairs around it. Cuffs around his wrists kept him from using his powers. Celion sat across from him, having interrogated him without much success for the last few hours.

“I have rights,” snapped the Principality, angry enough that his usual nervousness in bad situations had dissipated. “You’re not part of law enforcement. I demand to speak to Michael.”

“I’m tired, Aziraphale. I’m tired of you not cooperating. I know you’re a traitor and always have been,” Celion replied. “Now you can make this easy on yourself or not. Your choice.”

Aziraphale crossed his arms, looking away from the Department Head of Infernal Acquisitions. 

“Fine. Don’t say a word. You’ll stay here until you decide to,” sneered Celion. He paused for a minute. “Or maybe I can get you to sign that confession. You don’t want anything to happen to Crowley, do you?” 

Minute changes in Aziraphale’s expression gave him away. Celion was quick to notice, jumping on it. He got up, stalking around the Principality, feeling triumphant.

“Hmm, become attached to your slave, haven’t you? There’s been a few cases of that across Heaven. I’ve had to take a few demons back because friendships have formed between them and their masters. But I’ll tell you what . . . I’ll make you a deal.”

The unsigned confession was slid in front of Aziraphale. He looked down at it. “A confession is not a deal. I get nothing out of it.”

“You get your friend. Sign it and you two will stay together. Don’t and you'll never see each other again. I’ll make sure you know Crowley’s in the worst possible situation and that he’ll be stuck there for eternity. Can you bear to think of him going through torture without end?”

Aziraphale hesitated.

“Is that what you want? I can make sure you two at least are in a decent situation and the friendship can continue.”

“I doubt that.”

“Oh, I can. You see, I’ve dreamed for a quite a while about owning you both. The two from the Garden of Eden. What a status symbol,” Celion smiled. “I promise you’ll be treated well. I don’t like causing harm to my prized possessions.”

Aziraphale shivered, closing his eyes.

“You’ve got thirty seconds to decide or you’ll never see that demon again.”

“Ok!” cried Aziraphale. “You put it in writing there that Crowley stays with me and I’ll sign it. He may be a demon, but he doesn’t deserve an eternity of torture.”

A tear fell on the confession before Celion could pull it back for the addition. 

“You made the right choice, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale nodded. He knew he had made the right choice, for he had heard Her voice in his head, telling him this was the path he must take as it was the one that led to his and Crowley’s freedom. She hadn’t spoken to him since She exiled Herself, but he had never lost faith. He believed She had a plan. Signing his name, he put both their fates in Her hands.

Still, it was difficult not to shed tears when they locked the cold metal collar around his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning quote -- _All’s Well that Ends Well_, William Shakespeare


	11. A Turn for the Worst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heaven continues to fall apart as Aziraphale is reunited with Crowley. Crowley despairs of ever seeing freedom again, but Aziraphale has faith in the ineffable Plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: There’s a mention of non-consensual touch in the second section, but it’s not elaborated on. It’s in the second and third paragraphs. Skip those if they’ll make you uncomfortable and read the rest because it’s important stuff.
> 
> I'm stuck in my house, bored and writing is my waste product. You've all been warned. 😈

_Oh then, far o'er the restless deep _   
_Forlorn my poignant pangs I bore,_   
_Alone in foreign realms to weep_

The shuttered library attracted attention the next day and Aziraphale’s fate was spread far and wide across Empyrean as protests against such treatment of a fellow angel broke out. In front of the library, a peaceful protest took place while in other locations outright riots grew out of the anger. Windows were broken, businesses damaged and injuries sustained. More were arrested.

“Is this the way Heaven treats its own now?” screamed one angel as he was carted away by law enforcement loyal to Celion. 

Michael had lost control of her own officers in the capitol city. Those who weren’t corrupt or wouldn’t accept Celion as their new leader were quickly rounded up and thrown in the cells. Michael escaped arrest by going into hiding. She was secreted off to Gabriel’s second home in the Sixth Circle in the middle of the night.

“Free Aziraphale!” graffiti showed up everywhere. Rumours spread about how Celion coveted Aziraphale’s slave resulting in his imprisonment so that Celion could claim the demon. Fear spread. Who else was in danger because someone in a place of power wanted what they had? 

This wasn’t what they fought a war for. There was supposed to be peace. Those who could, left Empyrean for the areas where it still existed for now. Others looked to the Council, who had locked themselves away in fear of the riots and weren’t responding to anyone. Gabriel himself was reluctant to take action in light of Celion’s coup. 

With law enforcement preoccupied quelling multiple riots, Gabriel built up enough courage to visit the Council, heading over to the building where they did business before he could be noticed. The lobby was empty, only the receptionist, who was preparing to leave, was present.

“They won’t see you,” she said. “They fear for their own safety now.”

“The hell they won’t,” said Gabriel as he marched into their chamber. 

The receptionist fled.

The small Choir of Seraphim sat within the room, white robes glowing with holiness as they meditated. 

“Yes, Gabriel?”

“You need to take action. A Dominion has usurped the Department of Law Enforcement and is taking over the city, your graces.”

“There is no action that can be taken,” said one.

“We could call in law enforcement from other Circles but that would incite more violence,” said another.

“The time for violence is over,” stated a third.

“You’re just going to let Celion take over?”

“We are the Seraphim. We rule Heaven. He will realize this in time. He will realize that his rank and position are determined by God and cannot be changed. Some must stumble to learn humility.”

Despite his faults, his crass behaviour and unempathic attitude towards anything that wasn’t what he considered part of the Great Plan, Gabriel suddenly couldn’t believe his ears. “What about Aziraphale, who was arrested so that Celion could claim his slave? That confession he signed was coerced. Or the many taken into custody because they spoke out against it?”

“They are sacrifices to help Celion find his way. Their fates will be corrected in time.”

“Fates need to be corrected now, your graces. Heaven will fall to this dictator and there is no Almighty to cast him and his followers out this time.”

Gabriel left the chamber, planning on fleeing to Uriel’s or Sandalphon’s Circle before Celion found out what he had done. Empyrean was lost for now. He would build up an army to take it back and return in time.

Meanwhile, the cells were filling up with those who disagreed with the turn events had taken.

~*~*~

Crowley sat locked in Celion’s slave quarters on the small bed provided, head resting on the barred window as he looked out on the courtyard below. Celion’s impressive house was set up like a Roman _domus_, complete with grand furniture and many servants, but no slaves except him, of course. As of now, Heaven’s residents were only allowed one slave per household. 

They had messed everything up. Taken too long to escape and now he would never see Aziraphale again. He would be caught in an eternity of servitude to a creep of an angel who liked to touch his cheek and stroke his hair in violation of his consent. He shuddered as his heart all but broke. 

He had had to tolerate another round of unwanted touching from Celion before he finally left him alone to mourn his losses. Now he felt a whole new kind of empathy for those who had been sexually assaulted given how violated he felt just being touched without so much as a by-your-leave. He hoped Celion never figured out how to “make an effort.”

Crowley curled up on the bed the best one could when one possessed wings pulling the rough blanket over himself. Staring dispassionately at the small kitchenette in the quarters, he vowed to never eat. He’d waste away to the point he was useless. He couldn’t die, but maybe he could fall into a dreamless sleep from which he would never awaken, like a permanent coma if he was human. Anything to escape the life he now faced. He’d lost Aziraphale forever and would have to endure the weird fascination Celion had with him.

They were back where they started. It was stupid to have hope. To think they could get out of this. They had opposed the victors and this was their punishment. 

He was alone in the room, but he swore he could hear something. A whisper. Like someone had their mouth against the door trying clandestinely get a message to him. 

_Have faith_.

“What?” muttered Crowley, suddenly felling tired. He didn’t have much time to think about it before his eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep

_The chains around his wings were pulled tight after he was put back in his cell. He screamed as they yanked one wing out of its socket but no mercy was shown. The restraints were locked in place with Crowley passing out from the pain after begging long past the time his captors left to be released. He would spend days chained painfully to the wall by his delicate injured wings._

_“Anthos.”_

_The name cut through his mind like a knife. It was Greek for "flower," one of the few angel names that wasn't translated to Hebrew or ended with -el. Crowley was one of the last angels created thus God had started to run out of those by the time he came into existence. Crowley hadn’t minded his original name became a word for part of a plant in a human language. He had created stars first then plants for the Garden, imagining up beautiful blooms that resembled his creations in the cosmos. The loss of contact with both when he Fell still sometimes caused an ache in his soul._

_He looked up through a haze of pain. Aziraphale was standing in front of him, translucent, his image wavering. How was he here? Crowley imagined him chased down by his superiors, prevented from joining him on Earth. He thought the worst when the Principality never showed up; it never once crossed his mind that Aziraphale would simply fail to find someone in the area to possess in time. His idealized image of Aziraphale was more heroic than the angel actually was._

_“Angel?”_

_“Hold on, Crowley. We'll be together again. Just hang on for a bit longer. You'll be placed with me.”_

_“No. I'm hallucinating. You're not here. You didn't make it. We lost, angel.”_

_“I'm here from the future, remember that. When we escape we need to head to Earth, to Tadfield, not directly go to Alpha Centauri. Adam Young will have some information for us that it’s vital we receive. Oh, dear. You’re not buying this are you? I hoped it wouldn’t come to it, but this is important if we’re to get Earth back. Remember this. I need you to remember, all right?”_

_He pulled some kind of pointed instrument out of his pocket with an apologetic look towards Crowley. _

_“I’m sorry. This is going to hurt a bit, but I can block most of the pain. It’s just harder to do when I’m outside my body.” Picking up Crowley’s left hand, the apparition cut a sigil deep enough in his palm to scar. _

_Crowley cried out softly, but allowed him to continue because something in his gut told him he needed to. He looked down at the sigil. “Crawly.” It was what he used to sign for the Antichrist. How? Only a handful of demons knew his personal sigil. _

_Ghostly Aziraphale stroked his cheek, tears in his sky blue eyes. It was like being caressed by the wind but the gesture was still enough to cause his heart to ache for his angel. He wanted nothing more now than to hold in his arms the person that he loved._

_“I love you. Remember what I told you. Please remember and take it forward with you because it is our hope. Earth’s hope.” Aziraphale faded away._

_He was alone again, only this time he had his sigil. And hope._

A hand on his shoulder was shaking him awake. Startling, he bolted upright, expecting to see a servant sent to fetch or a guard to harass him. Instead he stared into sky blue eyes surrounded by a cloud of curly white-blond hair.

He choked back tears, throwing himself into Aziraphale’s arms. “I’m dreaming. I’m still dreaming. You can’t be here.”

Aziraphale touched his cheek gently with a sad smile. “I am here. I won’t leave you.”

Crowley pulled back as realization dawned on him and the horror etched itself on his face. Aziraphale _was_ here, dressed in Celion’s chosen colours of red and white accented with gold, the same as Crowley. A metal collar circled his neck, resting just at his collarbones. Dismayed, Crowley touched it with his long fingers, then gazed down upon Aziraphale’s wings with their missing primaries.

“No,” he whispered brokenly. “Not you. Not my beautiful angel.”

He touched foreheads with Aziraphale and wept. Aziraphale rubbed his shoulders above his wings in a comforting gesture trying his best to calm him. 

“Crowley, we’re still going to get free.”

“How? We’re both stuck in it now. Powerless in Heaven with no way out. It’s an eternity of servitude for us. Oh, and the irony is I remembered what I needed to and it’s not going to help us now. It’s too late.”

“We’re fine. I signed the confession to get back to you. God told me it was the right path to follow.”

Crowley took a step back, crossing his arms. “God told you?”

“Yes.”

“Angel, the Almighty hasn’t spoken a word to anyone in thousands of years.”

“She spoke to me. She told me I needed to sign the confession and take the offer put on the table by Celion. It’ll lead us where we need to go.”

“How?”

“I don’t know . . . but I have to have faith. So don’t forget again what you remembered. We’re going to need it.”

“Right . . .” Crowley suddenly felt like a pawn in a game of chess bigger than himself . . . if Aziraphale was correct, that is. “And they didn’t rough you up or anything before you heard from Her?”

“No. Nobody laid a hand on me. Can you trust me?”

“Yes, angel, I can. I just had to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. You have the faith and I’ll trust you’re right.”

~*~*~

Celion’s victory so far was hollow. Empyrean was reduced to riots and vandalism, many angels sided with the captive Aziraphale, the Council outright refused to act on his request to get more troops in to quell the uprisings (in fact, the Council had isolated itself and refused to act on any request at all) and his following didn’t extend beyond the borders of the city itself. 

He took what he could get, ordering his troops to seal off the city, round up those who were causing trouble and patrol to keep the remaining population who hadn’t been thrown in the cells in line. So far they weren’t being successful. He had wanted to hold a feast of his triumph for the more influential angels to gain their support, and as a means to show off his newest acquisitions – his matching angel and demon slaves – but he didn’t dare allow them out of the slave quarters for fear something would happen to them. 

There was no trusting those currently revolting would keep their distance if his slaves were spotted. They were dead set on freeing Aziraphale at least.

He had been so careful. He had planned everything out for a long time. He had played their stupid games, acting like he was on board with the Archangels who ran the Departments. Only a Dominion, he still managed to get promoted to Head of a Department. That was an accomplishment.

He stalked off to the slave quarters to at least see how his property was settling in. Unlocking the door with a wave he entered, startling them. Crowley glared at him with those unsettling eyes of his. Aziraphale stared at the floor. They sat together on the bed, the only space available for them to do so, where Celion presumed they were talking. 

“I’m going to have to expand this room when things are finally back to normal,” he said. “They’re calling for your freedom, Aziraphale.”

“Maybe you should do exactly that and give me back Crowley. They know what you did,” spat Aziraphale, angrier than Crowley had seen him in centuries. The angel looked ready to say more.

He stopped short, flinching as Celion raised his hand. Crowley was immediately between the two of them, wings spread, gaze daring the Dominion to strike him instead.

“Such loyalty from a slave,” Celion seemed impressed. “What did you do to earn that, Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale didn’t answer. Instead he put a hand on Crowley’s shoulder, squeezing gently. Crowley backed down when Celion let his hand fall again. He looked over the two. 

“There is more going on between you two than anyone realized,” he commented, more to himself. “But no matter. I can use that to my advantage. Behave and you get to stay together. Don’t and you’ll be separated until you agree to act more appropriately.”

“Whatever,” said Crowley. “I just don’t like seeing people get bullied.” 

He walked away from Aziraphale, going to sit on the one chair in the place. 

The angry Dominion grabbed Crowley by the collar, pulling him to his feet, the demon’s breath hitching in panic. Slamming him against the nearest wall while Aziraphale watched shocked, hands flying up to his mouth, Celion caught Crowley about the chin with one hand. His fingers dug painfully into Crowley’s cheek. He brought his face close to the demon, watching his yellow eyes close in fear as his breath came in sharp bursts.

“Don’t you forget who you belong to. I won’t tolerate you messing around with that former Principality too much. You are mine.”

Letting Crowley go, Celion strode back to the door where he motioned for two guards standing watch outside to come in. They were dressed in livery of the same colours as Crowley’s and Aziraphale’s, only their uniforms were more of a military design than that meant to be worn by servants. They approached Celion, stopping at a respectful distance from him.

“Secure these two and take them to the bunker,” he instructed. Turning to Aziraphale and Crowley, he addressed them. “The riots are too close for comfort even though we’re beginning to win against them. I refuse to risk losing you two.” 

Not having another choice in the matter, the two of them submitted to the guards waiting there with cuffs. Secured with hands behind their backs, they were led out and down a series of hallways. Coming to stairs, they were escorted down them, through a shorter hallway and into a room that was thankfully larger than the one they had just left. It was a sitting area and kitchen setup that, upon further inspection, had a short hallway leading to a small bedroom and a cubicle with a curtain over it that hid a shower. The one bed in the bedroom looked only just big enough to hold both of them while the shower appeared tiny. It was going to be a challenge bathing in there while trying to manage wings.

Bright light filtered into the rooms from an unknown source. They were informed it would be bright like the sun during the day, but each night switch to a dim moonlight so they had a sense of day and night. The guards removed the handcuffs before they were locked in and left to their own devices. 

Crowley clung to Aziraphale like a drowning man to a life preserver. The angel comforted him, showing him all the love he could under the circumstances. His hand settled in Crowley’s hair as he held the demon close. Crowley breathed in his scent, calming a little thanks to close contact with the one he loved.

“We’re on the right path.”

“I’m trying so hard to believe you, angel, but I can’t help but doubt.”

“I know.” Aziraphale kissed his head. “Stretch out a wing and touch your primaries.”

Crowley unwrapped himself from the angel. He brushed his fingers along the tips of his invisible primaries. “Still there, unlike yours. I hate those animals did that to you, angel.”

“It’s ok,” Aziraphale smiled the serene smile of one who has faith. “Watch . . .” He leaned forward to touch Crowley’s primaries only to have his hand pass through where they were. “We’re getting a little help here. They’re intangible to everyone but you. To keep them safe in case we have need of your wings. Now what is special about your snake form?”

“My snake form?” Crowley folded his wing up again. “Nothing . . . Wait . . . I can’t be detected by angelic miracles when I’m in it. We really are getting help here, aren’t we?”

“An automatic defense thingy?” teased Aziraphale. “Like you said the Antichrist had?”

“Oh, shut up,” mock-snapped Crowley. “Celion does have a weird fascination with Eden. No idea why, but it is what it is. And a weird need to own and show off the two remaining participants in that whole mess. So, we convince him that it would be much cooler if I was in snake form.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Precisely. I don’t think your collar is spelled to change size if you happen to change form. You’ll be free. You can go invisible, get near me and transport us out of here.”

“Ok, let’s try to convince him I’d be more impressive as a snake.” Crowley had his reservations about shifting form for fear he’d forget how to go to back to his favourite shape of human, but the need to escape trumped his reservations in this case. He could risk it if it got him and Aziraphale out of here.

“Now, what did you remember?”

Crowley relayed the whole dream. “It was you from the future. Now do you see that we need to use time travel to get out of this mess?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale sighed. “It’s just so convoluted, though.”

“Well, go have a talk to God about that. She could just snap Her fingers to make things right, but instead She’s going to send us on a wild goose chase to fix things.”

Aziraphale decided just to keep quiet about it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Opening quote -- _Ode to the Nightingale_, Mary Darby Robinson


	12. Faith Is a Disappearing Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _His focus was immediately on Crowley, his eyes suddenly bright, the realization that he could display the Serpent in his snake form developing in his mind. How impressive would that be? He stalked around the demon by the couch, looking him up and down as Crowley appeared visibly uncomfortable. Aziraphale wasn’t sure if it was acting or if Crowley really was unnerved by being the focus of Celion’s attention._
> 
> _“He’s something else entirely . . .” Celion waved his hand and Crowley was gone._

_Now the serpent was more subtil than any beast of the field which the LORD God had made . . ._

They had been alone for two days with no visits from anyone. Had the kitchenette not had the ability to conjure up food, they would have felt they had been abandoned here for punishment. But they still would have had each other in the case and that would make any sentence bearable. 

Aziraphale was making lunch for them, just some sandwiches with sliced apples on the side, but neither were that hungry, given they were confined to a small space with little to do. They had spent much of their time planning, waiting and wishing they knew what was going on outside their hidden location. Crowley chafed at the lack of windows, feeling a bit of claustrophobia that Aziraphale did his best to keep his mind off of.

“Crowley, come eat. We’re still on course here. We will escape. Please, just have some faith. If not in Her, then in me.”

Crowley was hunched up on the couch, cradling a pillow on his knees upon which he rested his head. He fell on to his side, wings askew, the pillow on his chest, still clutched close. He squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to acknowledge anything right now. Overwhelmed by the situation, he could not handle anymore stimuli at the moment.

“Not hungry. My stomach hurts.”

Aziraphale decided to let him be. He was taking this hard therefore didn’t need the extra stress of someone nagging him to put food into his already upset system. The last time Aziraphale gently pestered him into eating when he was in this kind of mood, the demon threw up for the first time in his life. That was an experience neither one of them wanted to repeat.

Aziraphale ate quickly so he could sit down on the floor beside the couch near Crowley’s head. Touching his cheek, he again murmured that they were on track with everything despite how it looked. When that failed to get a response, he gently pulled the wing hanging over the couch into a more comfortable position and carefully groomed its feathers. Crowley let out a little sigh, showing he was relaxing just slightly. 

“It’ll be all right, my love.” He stroked Crowley’s wing even though he was done grooming it.

They stayed like that for quite some time before a noise outside their door had Aziraphale scrambling to his feet and rushing to the kitchen where he started to put on a show of cleaning up the mess from lunch. It would not do to be seen performing such an intimate act on Crowley. Crowley didn’t move from the couch. 

Celion’s eyes fell on the prone demon as he entered. Crowley didn’t even bother to look up. Aziraphale looked over his shoulder from his position at the fridge were he was putting Crowley’s untouched plate of food away. He swallowed a worried lump as he observed the look of pure want the Dominion gave Crowley. Angels may not have known about lust or sex, but Celion was starting to come too close for comfort.

“You two could show your superiors some deference when they enter a room,” he commented as his gaze slid over to Aziraphale. 

Crowley didn’t respond. 

Aziraphale quietly said, “Sorry.”

“Sorry, _what_, 377-925?”

“Sorry, sir.” Aziraphale suddenly realized how debasing it was to be addressed as just a number.

“I prefer ‘master’, but that’ll do. Nothing to say, 354-174?”

The demon had finally sat up and was staring rather blankly at him like he wasn’t completely registering the events occurring in the room currently. Celion eyed him suspiciously. 

“He’s been through a lot. Please, just give him time to adjust . . . master,” pleaded Aziraphale.

Celion ignored him. “354-174, it’s about time you learned your place in this world and it’s not moping on the couch.”

“It’s being a little trophy for you, isn’t it?” snapped Crowley suddenly as he stood up. “You wanted the Serpent of Eden to show off, didn’t you? Like I’m some kind of status symbol.”

_Oh, Crowley, do be careful_, thought Aziraphale. _Don’t push him too far._

Celion blinked, a bit taken aback. “What?”

“It must suck to have in your grasp two of the main players in the Eden saga but not be able to parade them around like you want,” sneered Crowley, pushing down a feeling of terror. He knew very well what brutalities Celion was capable of. “I’m surprised you don’t want us to look like we did back then. Play the part, _sir_.”

The “sir” was spoken with so much venom, Aziraphale was surprised that Celion did not outright strike Crowley for his impudence. Instead, he gave the demon a shocked look before staring at the angel.

“I just wore the standard robe back then, nothing exciting,” Aziraphale said with a flustered smile, pretending to want to deflect this entire situation. “Looked about the same, really.”

“True,” replied Celion, slowly. “But he didn’t.”

His focus was immediately on Crowley, his eyes suddenly bright, the realization that he could display the Serpent in his snake form developing in his mind. How impressive would that be? He stalked around the demon by the couch, looking him up and down as Crowley appeared visibly uncomfortable. Aziraphale wasn’t sure if it was acting or if Crowley really was unnerved by being the focus of Celion’s attention.

“He’s something else entirely . . .” Celion waved his hand and Crowley was gone.

The metal collar clanged to the floor as a dozen different giant black and red snakes fled in a dozen different directions. They slithered around the two angels standing in the room to escape down the hall, into the kitchen, into the corners, up the countertops and on the windowsills. Then suddenly all disappeared in a loud, disorienting bang with a little smoke thrown in for flair. Crowley did like his drama. Aziraphale coughed. Celion cried out in frustration, clearing the air with a thought.

There was no sign of any snake. The angry Dominion checked under the furniture, searched the kitchen’s cabinets, and sent up spells in hopes of locating the demon.

“That was stupid, Crowley. You’ll be easy enough to find with a few miracles.”

“I’m afraid not,” said Aziraphale calmly. “You see, in snake form he has an anti-detection system. You won’t be able to trace him with celestial magic. It’s how he managed to sneak into the Garden past us four angels at the gates and lie in wait in the Tree until he could act.”

He tried his best to hold still as an invisible snake-shaped Crowley slithered out from behind the fridge, winding his way up his right leg to wrap around his waist. Celion jumped as the Serpent made himself visible, hooding with an irate hiss while Aziraphale smiled, waving his fingers at their captor. They both vanished, leaving an astounded Celion alone in the room.

~*~*~

Andreus and Leach, the two demons currently residing inside the dome over the Tadfield area, were actually finding their time on Earth to be that of contentment. They spent their time fishing in the nearby pond, stargazing, walking through the woods to discover what was left of Earth’s nature and sometimes even participating in games with the Them. It was an existence beyond what they had ever experienced in their lives in either Heaven or Hell. They had spent millennia angry, performing acts of evil in retaliation for their Fall, living in a world where they had to watch their backs. The current state of things sat in stark contrast to the competition and paranoia one experienced living in Hell. 

Relaxing was a new concept to the demons, but one that quickly became welcome. Right now they were in a clearing watching the clouds float over, amazed that so many different shapes could be found in them. 

Leach sat up suddenly. 

Andreus looked at him. “What?” she asked.

“I heard a pop. Like someone just transported in. Didn’t you hear it?” he said.

“No, but I was kind of dozing off. Should we alert Adam?” she answered.

“We’d better.” He pointed to beyond Tadfield’s protective bubble. In the burned wasteland beyond stood two angels dressed in light beige suits.

Fifteen minutes later, Adam had arrived after telling the demons to go ahead and make themselves scarce since he knew they were escaped slaves. They headed off to their little cottage to pass the time playing cards, an activity they found they liked. Take the demon out of Hell and sometimes a decent person emerged. Crowley wasn’t the only skeptic to Fall. 

Allowing them in, Adam led them back to the Them’s play area where he sat on his homemade throne and regarded them with a maturity beyond his years. His position had required him to grow up fast these past few months.

“It’s been a while since Heaven sent down angels,” he observed. “I’m not letting Heaven build here ‘cause I’m still figuring stuff out.”

“We understand, my lord,” said the one who appeared to be the leader. “We are here not about settling on Earth, but about an angel who is suffering from confusion and has apparently left Heaven. We are worried about him. Is there a chance he could be here on Earth?”

“The only angels I feel on Earth are you guys. Sorry.”

“All we ask is that if an angel named Aziraphale does show up, you let us know, please.” The angel handed him a business card, passing a hand over it so it contained a picture of Aziraphale. “Just concentrate on the card and we’ll send someone down, my lord.”

Adam gave the angel a long stare before responding. “Ok. Is that all?”

“Yes. Heaven may again decide to inquire about resettling Earth, just so you know, my lord. If we may take our leave?”

Adam looked blankly at him, not used to such formal language. “Sure. You can leave any time you want. Have a nice trip back.”

The angels, who had come from Celion, bowed before heading off to the border of the bubble where they could take off to Heaven. 

The Antichrist looked back at the Them, who had shown up during the conversation. Pepper took the card from him, stared at it and gave it back.

“That’s the guy who’s gonna to fix things?” she asked skeptically.

“Yeah, the angel. Still gotta find him and the demon.” Adam pocketed the card. “Heaven wants him back. I bet this is kinda like some spy movie. He’s escaped, is in the wind now, and they want to recapture him because he knows the truth and can make it right.”

“All right!” exclaimed Brian. “We can play secret double agent and look for him. I bet he’s here hiding out somewhere just waiting for the right moment. Like he’s gotta meet his contact or something.”

“He might not even come to Earth. He might decide that none of this is worth and go live on the moon,” said Wensley. “I don’t think angels need to breathe or eat or anything.”

“Be boring on the moon,” commented Pepper. “What’s he going to do? Look at rocks all day?”

“He’ll come to Earth. So’ll the demon,” Adam assured them. “I just know it.” He bent to scratch Dog, who cocked his head with a whine.

~*~*~

Gabriel had traveled to his second home to meet with Michael who had been using two of her lieutenants playing double agent to keep abreast of the situation on Empyrean. She was relaying the information she had to her colleague, some of it with much pleasure given how Celion had been shown up.

“. . . then one of his bodyguards came in to find the slave quarters empty except for him. Crowley’s collar was on the floor he told my contact.” Michael was saying as she took a sip of tea. She had developed a taste for it lately. “He was gone and apparently he took Aziraphale with him. They’re not in Empyrean anymore. The place has been searched. The theory is they transported to the border and fled to Earth.”

“What’s Aziraphale’s role in all this?” asked Gabriel. “Is he willing accomplice or hostage?”

“I don’t know. Aziraphale never struck me as being shrewd enough to cook up some scheme to save himself like that.” Michael pulled out some notes. “Crowley’s pulled the strings the entire time, I bet. He might very well take them to Earth to try to gain the Antichrist’s protection.”

“Maybe,” nodded Gabriel. “I don’t see the point. The Antichrist will not be happy about them being there. All indications are he just wants to be left alone."

“It’s not our problem, really. Aziraphale ran a library, Gabriel,” said Michael as she flicked through the pages she had retrieved from the table. “It’s not like we just lost some great leader who would rally the troops to take back the capital. Let Celion go crazy with worry about losing his precious slaves because we have serious problems here to fix. I have reports from the front lines. We are making some progress.”

They spoke no further about Aziraphale or Crowley, now more concerned with unseating Celion and ending his coup. It was time to return peace to Heaven.

~*~*~

“Andreus and Leach, I need your help,” Adam said, running up to the demons who were experimenting with skipping rocks across the nearby pond. “The angel and the demon we need are going to get themselves free here soon. Can I transport you two to the border of Heaven and you can bring ‘em down here?”

“Sure, as long as we don’t have to wait around for them,” Andreus said. “I can’t go back to being a slave. Not ever.”

“Nah,” said Adam. “Just for a moment. I’ve got traces on them now. I can do that now. Just figured it out.” He was proud of himself. He had to figure out his powers on his own; nobody was around to teach him. “As soon as I feel them transport to the border because I’m sure they’re going to do that, I’ll send you guys up to meet them. Ok?”

“Sure,” said Leach. “We’ll bring them back to you.”

~*~*~

Aziraphale and Crowley appeared at Heaven’s border near their cottage, Crowley keeping himself in snake form for now and wrapped around Aziraphale. He didn’t know if his natural defenses would extend to the angel if he was touching him, but if not, at least he was unable to be located. He could break Aziraphale out if he was recaptured. 

They hid in a grove of trees metres from the border, planning their next move. Crowley used his heightened sense of smell to keep watch for angels sent to retrieve them. His forked tongue flickered out with regularity as he stayed on alert. 

“I wish I could be on the ground. The vibrations this body can pick up,” he mentioned to Aziraphale. “So do we fly down to the physical world and try to get into Tadfield or what?”

“I don’t actually know,” whispered Aziraphale. “Tadfield’s protected by the Antichrist. Nobody gets in or out without his permission.”

A loud pop caused Crowley to rear up and hood. Aziraphale stepped back, alarmed, then looked confused when he registered two demons standing in front of him. The female presenting one stepped forward.

“I’m Andreus, this is Leach. We come from Adam Young who sent us to take you down to Earth.” She eyed the large black snake wrapped around the angel’s torso, head resting on his shoulder, then shrugged. “I assume that’s you, Crowley?”

“Yep,” said the snake.

“Adam knows about us?” asked Aziraphale.

“Yes. We’ll transport into Central London to throw off anyone looking for you, then into Tadfield itself,” she replied. “Just link with us and let us do the work, ok?”

Crowley turned his head to the east, tongue flickering in and out at a high rate. Leach noticed.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Someone’s coming. We need to go,” Crowley replied.

Andreus and Leach linked hands with Leach grabbing Aziraphale’s. With another pop, the grove was empty long before anyone reached it. 

They appeared on Earth in the center of London where shattered buildings still partially stood in the bleak grey landscape. Angry black clouds filled the sky, blotting out the sun. Not that it mattered. Nothing was alive here. The ruined city contained no people, animals or plants. It stood as a monument to a race that had recently gone functionally extinct.

Aziraphale’s intake of breath was sharp; the weight of what the Earth was now as heavy on his chest as Crowley’s coils. “Oh my lord. I can’t take this. Please do get us out of here quickly.”

They disappeared again, experiencing some unusual disorientation before reappearing in a wood that looked like part of the Earth of days now gone by. Aziraphale stumbled, surprised by the dizzying transport and the heaviness of Crowley. Leach steadied the angel, who thanked him. 

“If I wasn’t a snake right now, I think I’d be sick,” Crowley mumbled. “Where are we?”

He slithered his way back to the ground, changing back to his familiar human shape. Brushing off his jacket – he had reappeared in the clothing he had worn before the world ended – he turned to Aziraphale to do something about his collar.

“You’re in Hogback Wood,” someone said, causing them both to jump. “No, don’t mess with that collar. I wanna see if before you take it off.”

Adam approached Aziraphale, first looking over his collar then putting a hand on it. His brow furrowed as he read the magic imbued in the metal then he stepped back so Crowley could remove it. After the demon had done so, Adam picked it up off the forest floor where Crowley had tossed it.

“I should prob’ly keep this. Just as proof. I know what Heaven did.”

“What are you going to do about it?” Crowley asked.

“I can’t do a thing beyond kinda compromise with them. They think I have more power than I do. I can’t work against them and keep the people here safe.” Adam shrugged. “It’s up to you two. My dream gave me some information to give to you. There’s a lady named Madam Tracy who lived in London. She’s a fake medium, but she’s not a fake medium. She can carry a spirit.”

He snapped his fingers and the three of them were standing before a building containing flats in the middle of London. Aziraphale walked up to the door and read the address, noting Madam Tracy’s name on one of the doorbells.

“What street is this?”

Crowley saw a nearby sign, strode to it then yelled the street name back to him. “You might want to look at the building from above, just in case. C’mere. I can take you up.”

They took to the sky to peer down at it, Adam staying on the pavement watching them. Aziraphale hadn’t had the chance to repair his ruined primaries, so Crowley carried them both, using his wings and a small wish to keep the two of them aloft on his own still-invisible primaries. They noted what they could about the area and building then landed next to Adam again. Suddenly they were back in the wood, standing in the leaf litter on the ground in front of a boy who was too young to have to bear the burden he was saddled with.

“I can’t possess her because it’s in the past. And so we are back to time travel.” Aziraphale had changed back into his favoured clothing when they returned to the wood, looking much more like himself now. 

“Yeah.” Adam replied. “Time travel to make things right. He’s going to have to go tell you in the past to get to the right person to possess. That Madam Tracy person. Then everything’ll be all right. But you can’t stay here on Earth. Heaven will find and kill you. Well, nobody can die, but you know what I mean.”

“That’s all you have?” asked Aziraphale. 

“Hey, I’m just a kid,” Adam responded. “I’m just telling you what I was told. And you got a sign yourselves, right? That scar on Crowley’s palm?” 

The two demons who had helped them get here tried to get a view of Crowley’s hands. He uncomfortably shoved them both in his front pockets.

Adam had paused a moment. “You got the right books put away in your little hiding space. You just gotta find the right spell. I don’t know it. She didn’t tell me that.”

“Of course not,” muttered Crowley sarcastically. “So, is there really isn’t someplace we can stay to search out the spell then perform it?”

“Not here. Like I said, I can’t protect you two from Heaven. You’ll have to go to Alpha Centauri like you planned. You do magic like that and it’ll draw attention, you know. Reality doesn’t react to me like it used to. I can protect my area here and that’s it. Sorry.”

Crowley looked defeated. “It’ll take us four years to just get to Alpha Centauri and hell knows how much time to find a planet secure enough that we can work magic without being in danger.”

Adam brightened. “That’s why I made you a spaceship. My friend Wensley’s good at math. He figured out distances and all that stuff and I made it so it’ll go so fast you’ll get there in a year. We wanted to make it faster, but we don’t want to blow apart the universe or anything.”

“Oh,” said Aziraphale weakly. 

“How are we going to fly it? We’re an angel and a demon, not astronauts,” asked a skeptical Crowley, whose knowledge of mechanical means of transportation began and ended with the Bentley.

“Just think about what you want it to do while you touch the control panel and it’ll do it. I’ll teleport you there. Ready? Ok. Bye for now.”

The world changed from a beautiful woods in the summer to a spaceship that definitely looked it had been designed by eleven-year-olds, given how silver and shiny everything was. What wasn’t silver or shiny was covered with flashing lights and dials.

“This is ridiculous. I don’t belong in such a craft,” said Crowley. 

Aziraphale took the left seat, leaving the right one open for Crowley, just like how they sat in the Bentley. The real Bentley sat restored on the tarmac of the Tadfield airbase as a reminder of what occurred there. Adam occasionally went there alone to look around and wonder if he had done the right thing. Most times he concluded he had not.

“An angel and a demon enter a spaceship bound for Alpha Centauri. Insert punchline here,” muttered Crowley, taking a seat. “Am I driving or are you?”

“You always drive, so you’d better. Besides you have all the routes there in your head, don’t you?”

“Yes. I figured I’d better memorize them. Wasn’t expecting this, though,” replied Crowley.

He touched the silver panel in front of him, thinking about the best route to Alpha Centauri. It took no time at all before they were leaving Earth far behind. Aziraphale went to a window to watch the planet that had been their home for thousands of years become smaller as they sped away from it. He hoped they’d be able to restore things so he could spend thousands more years making it his home.

Neither of them noticed the fly that flew off of Crowley’s shoulder to a better hiding place among the dials. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning quote -- Genesis 3:1, KJV
> 
> And dear god . . . I put them in a bloody spaceship . . .


	13. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for the right spell begins, but not before Crowley get amorous. Because . . . Crowley . . .

_To me, fair friend, you never can be old,_   
_For as you were when first your eye I eyed,_   
_Such seems your beauty still._

Andreus and Leach stood there alone with Adam now that Crowley and Aziraphale were gone. Andreus looked pensive. Leach slowly dragged a booted toe through the leaf litter tracing random symbols on the ground.

“Adam,” said Leach. “What happens to us? We’ll just go back to being demons and we’ll never remember that we helped bring the world back. I’m a better person now. I don’t want to go back to doing temptations and other underhanded things.”

“I don’t, either,” chimed in Andreus. “I didn’t even follow Satan. I was just curious about what was going on and ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Not everyone that Fell actually bought was Lucifer was selling. Some just asked questions.”

Adam watched Dog chase a red squirrel up a tree where it chattered angrily at him. Turning to look at the demons, he regarded them thoughtfully. “She needs companions. She’s been in exile for so long just being able to watch. Even She gets lonely. She told me that in a dream. You can speak to her . . . see if that would work.”

“Wouldn’t we just be like servants to Her?” asked Andreus.

“No. She doesn’t want servants. She wants someone to pass the time with. She has one companion with her, but she misses spending time with all her creations,” said Adam, speaking as if it wasn’t just him behind the words. “She lives in Her own dimension so you two wouldn’t end up back in Hell if Crowley and Aziraphale get things fixed up right. A reward for getting things started. If it wasn’t for you, I would have never known what was going on or that my dreams about fixing stuff were real.”

The two looked at each other. Leach shrugged. “It’s worth a discussion, I guess.”

A soft light off in the woods attracted their attention, filling them with a feeling that they should follow it. They would have their discussion.

Adam watched them go. His job done, he headed back to town knowing that everything could change in a year’s time. He hoped he remembered that starting the Apocalypse was not all it was cracked up to be. He tried to stick it firmly in his mind that being a normal eleven-year-old was a much better option. With any luck it just might stay there through the timeline changes.

~*~*~

Crowley had muted all the flashing lights with a thought before using a wish to shield the craft from radiation and arranging things so nothing would collide with them. It had been almost a year since he had been captured and deprived of his ability to do demonic miracles. It felt so good to be whole again it almost offset the weird feeling he had about being in a spaceship. Looking around he found Aziraphale bringing some bookshelves into existence.

Approaching him from behind, he curled his arms around Aziraphale’s waist, kissing him on the neck. The angel was shelving spell books he was plucking out of the bubble dimension he had put them in earlier before his arrest. His hands free after sticking another on a shelf, he reached back to tousle Crowley’s hair.

“Did you heal your primaries?” Crowley inquired softly, nibbling along his partner’s jawline. 

“In all the excitement I completely forgot about it,” replied Aziraphale with a contented hum. “I’ll get it done after I get all the spell books shelved. You’re awfully amorous.”

“Well, we have a year to kill in a pretty confined space here, we might as well spend as much of it as possible in bed,” purred Crowley. “Get your wings out. I’ll take care of them for you.”

“You forget the research we’ll have to do, my dear.” Aziraphale acquiesced to Crowley, unfurling his wings after the demon stepped back.

“We’ll need study breaks.”

Aziraphale felt Crowley pour power into his white feathers, forcing new primaries to sprout and grow within a few seconds. Crowley stepped back to look over his handiwork, combing a few down before telling Aziraphale he could put his wings away again. 

He turned to face Crowley, embracing him and covering his mouth in rather sloppy kisses, breathing him in. It had been four days since they were able to touch like this but it might as well have been an eternity. Crowley’s hands were exploring Aziraphale’s body quite thoroughly, pulling him in closer until their hips met. Aziraphale could no longer hide his desires.

“Oh, so you do agree all work and no play makes Aziraphale a very boring angel,” Crowley teased. “C’mon, first beings to have sex in space. It’ll be monumental.”

“Well, from this solar system, anyway. We don’t know what’s happened in other galaxies.” Aziraphale had created a bedroom in the back – tiny and Spartan, but serviceable. The bed, however, was big enough for both of them and met Crowley’s demands on thread count for sheets and luxuriously warm comforters. 

Clothes vanished between them, showing up on the floor of the bedroom, neatly folded in Aziraphale’s case. Crowley didn’t bother; he miracled the wrinkles away later. 

Taking Aziraphale’s hand in his, he brought it up to his mouth where he sucked each finger in turn, taking his sensuous time about it. Occasionally he’d nibble a fingertip here and there as the angel’s breath quickened and caught. Aziraphale’s free hand tightened on Crowley’s thigh, involuntarily grasping when Crowley sucked hard. 

“Are you just going to play around or what?”

“You in a hurry, angel?”

“You’re driving me mad!”

“That’s the point.” Crowley nibbled on his sensitive wrist, leaving off with a lick before he moved on to the angel’s chest. “Maybe I’ll just kiss and lick and bite my way all over your body before I bother with the good parts. How’s that sound?”

Aziraphale answered with a whimper as Crowley bit a nipple hard, scratching his nails down Crowley’s back while the demon yelped in surprise. Pausing a moment, he removed Aziraphale’s hands from the small of his back, placing them above the angel’s head.

“Sorry, human skin feels so sensitive after spending time running around in a snake’s hide. Keep them up there for me for a little while so you don’t scratch me again? Let me pamper you.”

It was hard, Crowley could tell as he watched Aziraphale’s hands twitch every time he looked up at them during a bite or a lick. Smiling, he continued his assault on the angel, leisurely pinching one nipple sore while he licked and sucked the other one a rather dark shade of red. Aziraphale arched his back as he whimpered, making Crowley steady him with a hand on his chest.

“Hold still or you’re going to bruise my nose and that would ruin the mood, now wouldn’t it?” 

Heading downwards with tiny bites, some pretty rough, Crowley started kissing the inside of Aziraphale’s thighs, giving a patch of skin a swipe of his tongue here and there. Writhing with the warm wet sensation of Crowley’s tongue on sensitive areas, Aziraphale gave out a pitched whine of pleasure, making Crowley chuckle.

“I know what you want. Should I give it to you?”

He inserted lubed fingers inside the angel, watching as Aziraphale’s hands cast about, wanting so badly to touch in return. Crowley made soothing noises at him, laying his head on his stomach as he worked.

“Here, angel. Touch my head. Hair’s fine; it doesn’t bother me. I’ll be back to normal the next time we do something, promise.”

He felt his partner’s fingers twine their way through his hair, twisting themselves around it seeking the satisfaction that came with touching a partner during sex. A sigh escaped his lips as his fingers found sensitive nerves causing an immediate response in Aziraphale. Sky blue eyes flew open as he cried out ferally. Crowley turned his head to nibble on the skin just above Aziraphale’s belly button, ignoring the writhing the angel was doing.

Aziraphale felt like he was going to explode from the pleasure. Little gasps escaped his lips as he tried his best to experience the levels of desire Crowley was bringing him to without completely dumping Crowley off his abdomen. He felt the demon putting pressure on him to keep the bucking at bay. Unexpectedly, his cock was wet with more than just precum. Crowley had his mouth on it, skillfully sliding his tongue up and down the bottom of the shaft as he sucked, alternating between sucking hard and just teasing until after some time Aziraphale cried out.

“Crowley, I’m going to come . . .”

“Go ahead,” mumbled the demon around his shaft. He felt the warm liquid fill his mouth, vanishing it for convenience’s sake as soon as it hit his tongue. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale looked over confused when the demon crawled up beside him and lay down. “Don’t you want anything?”

“I’m fine, angel. Let me get fully used to human senses again and you can do to me whatever you want.” He gave a lecherous grin. 

“You weren’t even a snake that long. I didn’t know it could affect you so profoundly. You could have stopped at any time, my dear.”

“It’s disorienting. The body . . . the senses are so different. I thought maybe the sensitivity I’m feeling would make sex more fun, but no. It was just sensory overload.” He kissed Aziraphale’s cheek. “But I did enjoy pleasuring you so it was worth it.”

Aziraphale nearly glowed with love upon hearing that; Crowley playfully hit him with a pillow. 

“Knock off that lovey-dovey angel stuff,” the demon teased. “We’re on an important mission here.”

“I know,” Aziraphale sighed, sobering. “We should be searching for that spell.”

Handing him a wished-up book before conjuring another, Crowley gave him a smile. “Nothing says we can’t do that right here in bed.”

Aziraphale gave him one of Those Looks before cracking open his book to the index. Beside him, Crowley laughed for a few minutes before he could contain it enough to concentrate to doing his own research. They spent the next few hours in bed reading and bookmarking likely useable spells. 

~*~*~

Crowley was seated at the controls using his thoughts to make adjustments to their trajectory while Aziraphale piled more books on the table they had conjured to do research on. Several potential spells had been found and the angel was doing some cross-referencing before they decided to take the rather large leap of testing them out. He was still unsure how they were going to do that. Crowley was hesitant about performing untested spells while sitting in their only mode of extremely fast transportation.

“We might just want to leave testing until we get there. Doing miracles in deep space is tricky enough when you know what you’re doing,” Crowley had said. “We can’t afford risking blowing this ship up or something. A lot can happen in a year, let alone four.”

“Why is it so different?” Aziraphale had asked. “Doing miracles in space, that is?”

“There’s nothing to ground you or the magic you perform to but your own self. Different environment, different results if you’re not careful. I don’t know if this tiny piece of metal we’re in is enough to ground us. It’s not like being in the celestial plane or on an entire planet.”

“But I conjured up bookshelves, the bedroom and the rest of the furniture just fine.” 

“We were still near enough to Earth to ground to it. It won’t be like that for long. We’re probably out of range already. Try creating a star and getting it right when you aren’t used to the effects out here. We had trouble until we learned how to compensate. I’m not risking a spell involving time, especially since you’re new at this.”

Aziraphale had nodded and deferred to him. Crowley was the one with the knowledge; the angel wasn’t going to argue with someone who knew more than him on the subject. He returned his thoughts to the present.

“I’ve narrowed what we’ve found down to three possible spells that’ll take one back to a certain time and location. Whether or not you can use them between planets, let alone solar systems, I don’t know,” he said.

He stared out the window as Crowley approached to look at the bookmarked spells. The demon seemed perfectly at home in space. Aziraphale had trouble dealing with the lack of light. He missed the sun most of all right now. Even though they had created day and night in their ship with artificial sun and moonlight, it still wasn’t the same as the real sun on the real Earth. Even the sunlight in Heaven had taken some getting used to.

“I guess we’ll have to see,” said Crowley. He pointed to one spell. “I think this one looks like the best candidate, to be honest. It doesn’t seem to say you need to be a particular distance from your intended target.”

“I agree.” Aziraphale paused. “How do you do it?”

Crowley gave him a confused look. “Do what?”

“Handle being out here? I’m still so uncomfortable and I want so badly to just have my feet on solid ground, see the sun . . . you know . . .” Aziraphale replied, gesturing towards the dark window lit only by the pinpoint lights of occasional faraway stars. The demon was suddenly standing beside him.

“Practice, I guess. It’s been thousands of years, but I guess it all just came back to me.” Crowley shrugged. “It’s like that human saying . . . you never forget how to ride a bicycle. It’s not always emotionally easy. I haven’t been among the stars since I was an angel.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Not like it was your fault.” Crowley kissed his head before returning to the table to look over the books.

“You shouldn’t have Fallen. You have never had loyalty to Hell,” replied Aziraphale heatedly.

“Hey, angel. Don’t get worked up about it. We’re beyond that now, remember? It’s us on our own side.” Crowley decided maybe he shouldn’t have said anything about it. His intent wasn’t to upset his angel. “I’ll get over it, ok? We have a job to do so I need to.”

Aziraphale came over, settling himself in Crowley’s lap. “I’m scared it won’t work.”

“Then we tried. Another reason to head off to Alpha Centauri. If we go back in time and can’t convince ourselves to do things differently, at least we’ll still have a safe place to live.” Crowley’s arms encircled Aziraphale, holding him close while Aziraphale nuzzled against his tousled hair.

“How many times are we going to have to travel?” he asked.

“You will twice since we can’t go back to our own pasts. Once to give me this.” Crowley flashed the scar and again to make it come back after you healed it. That was four weeks after I was brought to you because you had that two week meeting with Celion a fortnight earlier. You’ll have to determine dates. It’s not like I had a calendar in the cells.”

“Then you’ll have to get ahold of me sometime between when I start hunting for a body and when everything happens at the airbase. But I don’t remember getting any information from you,” said Aziraphale worriedly. “Does that mean we failed?”

“No. Because I believe once that happens, our timeline here will end and we’ll be returned to the one where Earth is saved. Or at least I think that’s what should happen,” Crowley mused. “I wonder if we’ll remember this? I hope not. They’re not exactly a bundle of memories I want to keep.”

“I know,” Aziraphale cuddled in closer, if that was possible. “You still sometimes have trouble sleeping and I don’t want to think about how I almost lost you.”

He scooted himself so he was straddling Crowley, arms draped around the demon’s neck. Crowley leaned in towards him until their foreheads touched. His hands rubbed Aziraphale’s back, scratching up and down where his wings would manifest if he unfurled them. The close range made his face blur into an unfocused circle of flesh tones, sky blue and white-gold, but Crowley didn’t care. He could physically touch his angel and feel his ethereal spirit on a separate plane. He’d been unable to do that as long as he wore that slave collar. To be connected again to him on a spiritual level was pure heaven.

_Hi_, he said to Aziraphale, spirit to spirit. The angel looked just like his physical form, only transparent. _I know I said this before, but I’ve missed this._

_Me too_, answered Aziraphale. _I could see you, but I knew you couldn’t see me. That hurt terribly._

Aziraphale hugged Crowley, spirit and all. They mingled together like that to share their emotional love, the ethereal and the infernal combining impossibly in ways no other angel or demon fathomed. If one could peer in the windows of their ship as it sped towards Alpha Centauri, one could see a red glow softened by the addition of white light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning quote: _Sonnet 104_, William Shakespeare


	14. Hope Among the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celion is not out of the picture yet. Will he find out about Aziraphale and Crowley? Hell is not much better off than Heaven and Beelzebub is doing their best to keep order. Everything may ride on Crowley and Aziraphale changing the past.

_There is no light in earth or heaven  
But the cold light of stars;  
And the first watch of night is given  
To the red planet Mars._

“They’re gone. We’ve put powerful spells all over Earth and not a trace of those two has been found,” reported the angel whose job it was to keep Celion informed of the hunt for Aziraphale and Crowley. 

“They have to be on Earth somewhere,” Celion irritably replied. “Where else would they be?” He paused a moment, looking up from his paperwork. “Unless the Antichrist is hiding them. We need to send a representative down pretending to be interesting in colonizing Earth with angels again. It’s possible they arrived after we sent the first representatives. Hopefully he won’t notice a few discreet miracles if we’re careful.”

The angel gave him a concerned look. “Is this wise? We’re fighting a war here on two fronts. Resources would be better used gathering intelligence to keep us from being defeated. It is getting harder every day to hold on to Empyrean between Gabriel’s forces and those who want to overthrow us and the government.”

Celion looked at her coldly. “I suggest you do as I tell you if you don’t want to be branded a traitor to the cause.”

“Yes, sir.” The angel bowed and left.

Celion had secured the capital city, but he had resistance. Those who wanted a more idealistic Heaven had rallied their own forces and Gabriel had raised an army to take back what the Council refused to. God’s Realm was very quickly coming apart at the seams. The angel who left shook her head. They were in the middle of a war but all their leader was worried about was a couple of escaped slaves. 

She decided she had had enough. Gathering what she needed from her house, she convinced the guard at the nearby gate that she had an important mission to do for their leader and left, heading off for a friend’s house in the Second Circle. Fighting for an obsessed leader would never lead anywhere good. 

She wasn’t first nor would she be the last to abandon the cause.

Meanwhile, the resistance fighting both the government and Celion’s forces was starting to make moves outside of Empyrean. Before long all of Heaven would be involved in yet another war. 

In the Fourth Circle, some angels had started involving their slaves in the rebellion. Some demons were willing to do it for the promise of freedom, even if it meant they had to return to Hell with no chance of ever leaving there. “Freedom” confined to a Realm few of them bothered to leave in the first place was preferable to life as it was.

They stormed the cells there together, angel and demon, freeing those inside and burning the building. Demons tore off their collars – there was nobody to chase them down, nowhere to put recaptured demons. Forces had their hands full trying to keep riots down. Cities became wastelands as angels fled to the countryside or hid in their houses hoping they wouldn’t be vandalized if they just stayed quiet and kept out of the way. 

The Third Circle was quick to follow with the original demon resistance leaders freed and governmental buildings damaged or destroyed. The capitol of that Circle lay in ruins. Few ventured out; those who were running around the streets were fighting.

In the Circle controlled by Sandalphon, a group of angels lit fire to his mansion and slipped off into the night. Even Gabriel’s favourites were not immune to the violence.

Gabriel was right. Heaven was rebelling again and this time there was nobody who could stop it.

~*~*~

Lightyears from Earth, Aziraphale felt it. The anger of the Host he still had a connection to pulsed through his ethereal form. He stopped his study of the selected spells, closing his eyes as he put a hand to his chest. He took a sharp intake of breath, which was noticed by Crowley, who was seated across from him recalculating their route to the best of his abilities. Adam had given them a navigation computer which kind of worked. At least it told him which direction they were heading. 

“What’s wrong, angel?”

“The Host is fighting. I can sense it,” he replied. “Oh, Crowley. We can’t get things fixed soon enough. I may no longer have a favourable opinion of Heaven, but I don’t want to feel them fighting.”

“Only six-seven more months, I hope,” said Crowley, who took his calculations up to the front of the ship. “We just need a planet we can set foot on. It doesn’t have to be habitable. Just solid. We can set up whatever shields we need around the ship to keep radiation and whatever else at bay.”

Demons had never bothered to set up a connection between themselves like angels had. It would have just served to pass around bad moods, resulting in more infighting. And even if such an outcome wouldn’t have been a given, Crowley was rather glad nothing like what the Host had had come to pass. The last thing he wanted was to have to deal with other people’s emotions over a psychic net. He had enough trouble sometimes dealing with his own. Plus he had a lot more to lose than your average demon, given he had been in love with an angel for thousands of years. Someone would have been bound to notice. He was honestly surprised Aziraphale had kept the knowledge of his growing relationship with him a secret from Heaven as long as he had. That angel could be more devious than he let on.

“There. I’ve taken the information the ship’s computers gave me and tweaked our route a little. And Hell below, I can’t believe I’m actually saying something like that,” Crowley announced from the cockpit. “We should hit the system a few days ahead of schedule. It’s not much, but it’s a couple of more days we have to search for serviceable planets.”

“You’re amazing. Do you know that?” Aziraphale looked at him with adoring eyes when Crowley turned back towards him. “Where did you learn such complex maths? It hardly seems your style.”

“Ancient Greece.”

“Really?”

“I got bored one century, ok?”

“I’m sorry if I offended, my dear. It’s just you’ve spend our entire relationship acting like book learning was very much not something you weren’t interested in.” 

“I forgive you, if only because you’re cute and right now I’m more interested in wandering around this place naked,” said Crowley flippantly. “It’s not like anyone’s going to see us.”

“Crowley!”

~*~*~

Beelzebub waved their hand over the giant stone bowl of water they were using for a scrying mirror with a roll of their eyes. There were some things they definitely didn’t want to see, Crowley’s suggestion being one of them. 

They had covertly released a few of their flies before exile in hopes that they could connect with those and at least have a window on what was happening in the world or maybe even be able to gather information that could be used to break the exiled demons out of Hell. Until now, the flies had merely been eyes on a world burnt beyond the capacity to sustain life. Beelzebub couldn’t get one into the protective bubble around Tadfield.

It was pure luck one of them had been buzzing around London in just the right location when the Antichrist popped in with Crowley and that angel who was Heaven’s former field agent. Alerted to the presence of life around the fly by a simple spell, they opened up the scrying mirror to observe, delighted to see that not only had the fly found living beings, but potentially useful living beings. Carefully they had connected more thoroughly to that particular fly, sent it to land on Crowley’s shoulder where its black body could best blend in against his black jacket and finally got into Tadfield.

What they learned there gave them hope. Crowley and the angel had a plan to change the past. It was a longshot, but doable in their estimation. Time travel was tricky and most likely they’d need a connection to Earth to make it work. Beelzebub could provide that through links to their flies. 

They hated that traitor Crowley and knew little about Heaven’s field agent beyond the friendship Hastur discovered he had formed with Crowley. But that distinction mattered little since the angel was their hereditary enemy. They wouldn’t be happy working with either of those idiots, but if the two could manage to give Hell a chance to defeat Heaven, they’d tolerate them. Anything to get out of here before the demons ripped each other apart out of boredom.

Further information surprised them. The Almighty was involved at least marginally through the use of dreams. That might kill any plans of Hell winning, but a restored balance would be worth it. At least things would be back to the status quo they were used to. Tediousness was tearing Hell to pieces as bored demons could no longer head to Earth for tempting, entertainment ideas and to get away from each other. Everyone used to have jobs to do and they had a thriving Realm. Now few had employment, except leaders and those whose work didn’t involve humans, and nobody had enough imagination to come up with alternate ways to pass the time. Instead, everyone was just getting on everyone else’s nerves and even Beelzebub could no longer keep all the fighting from occurring. Even a stalemate with Heaven would be better than this. 

Beelzebub put a few more spells on the fly, hoped they worked in outer space and sent it off with Crowley and the angel. After learning they had a lot closer relationship that they ever suspected, they stayed connected with their fly only enough to keep a link with it, having set things up so it would alert them when Crowley and his angel were searching for spells, had newsworthy information or had finally made it to Alpha Centauri. There were apparently things they didn’t want to see going on in that vessel.

That Heaven was experiencing revolts was welcome news to their ears. So angels really weren’t that different from demons and those holy idiots were busy ripping their own Realm apart at the seams. Beelzebub mused on that for a moment, first gloating, then sobering with realization. They sank down in their chair.

The cold hard fact was neither Realm could truly survive without Earth. Had Crowley really been a traitor, then, or just the only one who realized the true nature of things? 

Really, they should have realized the true nature of things as well had they not been blinded by the Great Plan, the feeling that duty to orders came before personal feelings. Crowley wasn’t the only demon romancing his counterpart . . .

~*~*~

Aziraphale just hid his face in his hands, the book he was reading momentarily forgotten. He was doing back research on the most likely spell they would use when they landed on a workable planet, but it was hard to concentrate when there was a demon running around wearing nothing but one of Aziraphale’s button-up shirts. It barely covered his bum, giving the angel occasional glimpses of cheek as Crowley moved throughout the cabin on those long and completely exposed legs of his. 

Aziraphale couldn’t help staring, which was probably the point.

“Please will you just put some clothes on?”

“I’m wearing a shirt.”

“_My _shirt and nothing else. It’s distracting. I _do _have work to do, even if you’re too flighty to help out.”

Crowley plopped in the chair across from Aziraphale, elbows on the table as he stared at the angel. “We’re sure that’s the spell. You don’t have to stress over it all the time.”

“It’s time travel, my dear. Such a thing makes me rather uncomfortable. Time is not very forgiving if you make a mess of things,” Aziraphale replied stroppily. “And you said we’ll be there in a couple of months to the best of your calculations.”

“I know all that,” said Crowley gently. “And I also know you’re burning yourself out worrying, studying and obsessing about it. That’s just as bad as if we were being cavalier about this whole mission. If we just chose a spell, said it was good enough then went with it without carefully studying it.” He took the tome away, sliding it across the smooth top of the table out of Aziraphale’s reach. “Let it go for a week.”

He slapped the angel’s hand off as Aziraphale reached for the book. Aziraphale pulled back, mildly offended. 

“Crowley, really. It’s important we get this right.”

“Let it rest or I’ll hide that book in some bubble dimension.”

Leaning back with his arms crossed, Aziraphale huffed in annoyance. 

“How about dinner? I can wish up whatever you want.”

Crowley did better miracling up food than Aziraphale in the darkness of space. In fact, it had been easy to conjure up bookshelves and other items when they were close to Earth, but now they were nowhere near a planet, Aziraphale experienced first hand what Crowley was talking about. He had stopped performing miracles altogether because they mostly went wrong anymore – he’d miracle up some sushi only to have it be rotten, for example. Crowley tried to teach him how to work within the special circumstances of space, but it was frustrating and Aziraphale said since hopefully their time in space was limited, he’d leave the magic work to the demon. It didn’t bother him. He had had to be frugal with the miracles while on Earth anyway or risk Gabriel getting upset with him. 

“Normally you ground your magic in the Realm you’re in whether that’s Heaven, Earth, or in my case, Hell,” Crowley had tried to explain. “Most angels and demons don’t realize that because it’s just instinctual. But in space there’s nothing to ground to but yourself. So that’s what you do.”

“But that’s impossible. You can’t ground to your own spirit,” Aziraphale had said.

Crowley had tried to explain it several times and demonstrate but Aziraphale never quite understood. Finally he just said he’d be fine with Crowley doing all the miracling until they got where they were going.

He snapped back to the present where Crowley was tempting him with all his favourite foods. “Hmmm?” he asked, not quite hearing the demon.

“Oh, you’re back with me now? I was just saying we could even do a full-course dinner if you really wanted to. Anything to get your mind off of that damn spell for a while.” Crowley was currently leaning on the counter of the kitchenette they had created, a mug of tea in his hand, his shirt threatening to reveal full frontal below the waist to Aziraphale.

Aziraphale merely shrugged. “I don’t know what I want, really.”

“I know something you could have for an appetizer.” Crowley coyly looked down before again making eye contact but this time with a sly smile.

“You’re insatiable.”

“You like it.” Crowley turned towards the cabinets, stretching to get another mug down and leaving little to the imagination, not that Aziraphale didn’t enjoy the view of his arse. “Want some tea?”

“You’re just trying to tempt me, you old serpent.”

“All work and no play makes Aziraphale a dull angel.”

Crowley found himself being turned around rather roughly, kissed thoroughly and stripped quickly of the one article of clothing he was wearing. A fully clothed angel pressed up against him, hands wandering down his back to his arse where fingernails bit in. Crowley’s gasp of surprise was muffled by Aziraphale’s lips on his. He bit at Aziraphale’s lower lip, nibbling along it before licking over the bites with his tongue. 

Crowley reached between them to unbutton Aziraphale’s waistcoat but the angel pushed his hands away and led him to the bedroom instead. There he allowed Crowley to strip him of every piece of clothing, but things slowed from there. Aziraphale put himself skin-on-skin with Crowley where they sat on the bed, his cheek resting on the demon’s shoulder while Crowley lipped at his collarbone, leaving a trail of soft kisses. He sighed, his breath hot on Aziraphale’s skin, then he lay his head down, nuzzling into the angel’s blond curls.

“I believe I do just need to relax,” whispered the angel. “Do you mind if we go slow?”

“No.” Crowley patted the bed. “C’mon. Lie down with me.”

They lay there naked, kissing each other softly, hands wandering over each other’s bodies. Crowley noted Aziraphale’s muscles seemed tight and he massaged the ones he could easily reach until he felt the angel’s body relax. 

Aziraphale sighed, blinking heavily at Crowley. “That feels wonderful, my dear.” But he felt more than Crowley’s fingers on him. “You want more, don’t you? I’m sorry. I’ve been rather obsessed over research lately, haven’t I?”

He slid down, determined to please his demon. Crowley felt take his cock being taken into Aziraphale’s mouth briefly and the angel start through his repertoire of motions that pushed Crowley over the edge with ecstasy – nibbling at his thighs first before placing kisses and licks on his balls. Aziraphale knew the exact pattern to lick in that would really get Crowley going, kissing gently on the sides before placing a few licks along the seam then back to gentle caresses and swipes of his tongue. When that go to be too much, he worked his way up his shaft until he got to the head where he would gently tease before starting to suck hard, settling into a good rhythm.

Meanwhile, Crowley closed his eyes and imagined they were floating, twirling and falling in an intricate mating dance out there among the stars he had helped create, their activities lighted by the billions of points starlight surrounding them. His hand twisted in Aziraphale’s hair, that white-blond mop of unruly curls on his head that was just a shade or two off from real starlight. Maybe his angel’s body was partially made out of the cosmic bodies he helped bring to life. Wasn’t that a lovely thought?

Then no more considerations could form in his head as Aziraphale’s handiwork below his waist wrested control from him, turning all his brain power into pure desire. He thrust in a shallow and gentle manner, unable to keep himself from moving. Aziraphale responded cheekily by scraping his teeth along the underside of Crowley’s cock.

“_Oh, angel_!”

How could one celestial being do this to him? Make him feel not only physical attraction towards said being but outright love?

He moaned slightly as Aziraphale’s tongue circled the sensitive ridge of his cock before he started sucking on it hard, determined to make Crowley come. The sensations . . . He felt like he had touched a live wire with both hands but the shock he received was made of nothing but desire. He came. Loudly but with restraint for he did not want to thrust hard into Aziraphale’s mouth. This time was tender and he was not going to ruin it by turning everything rough. The electric current buzzed through him, slowly dissipating through his limbs. His hand fell off his lover’s head.

Getting his breathing under control, he offered his body up to the angel who made him feel this way. “I’m yours, Aziraphale. Use me how you wish.”

And Aziraphale did, sliding into Crowley’s tight arse ever-so-slowly, enjoying every physical and emotional feeling that came with entering him when he was in such a state. Palpable love and lust radiated off the demon, bathing Aziraphale in a sense of adoration he almost felt unworthy of. 

As he kissed his demon’s chest while enjoying more carnal sensations, he forcibly pushed down such feelings of unworthiness. Those would not ruin this perfect moment he was having with Crowley. He could feel him quivering with yearning every time he thrust. Aziraphale wondered if he could make him come again. Encouraging Crowley to shift his hips upwards, he felt himself drawn even deeper into that pleasurable warmth, touching just the right areas, judging by Crowley’s reactions. He smiled at him even though the demon’s eyes were closed. He always closed them, saying he could concentrate on the feelings better when he shut down that sense.

“Come for me,” Aziraphale said gently in his ear. It was surprising how easily the bedroom talk happened now when a few short years ago he had difficulty even saying the word “sex,” as clinical as that sounded for what they did. “I want you to come again.”

And Crowley did in a manner that was music to Aziraphale’s ears. It pulled him past the point of no return and soon his voice was added to the demon’s as they ended together in the most satisfying of ways. With some final touches and kisses before he pulled out, Aziraphale felt it as Crowley wished away the sweat from their bodies before the angel lay down. The demon rolled over to put his head on the angel’s chest.

“Crowley?”

“Hmmm?”

“There are tiny stars floating around above us.”

Crowley’s wish had manifested itself in miniature in the bedroom, an unexpected result of his love. He allowed them to stay a while, reluctant to banish the first cosmic objects he had created since Falling. He eventually gathered them up into one larger ball of light and sent it out into a nearby nebula’s stellar nursery hoping it would survive and become a star in its own right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning quote -- _The Light of Stars_, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


	15. A Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley finally reach Alpha Centauri, but the inhabited planet they find is not what they expected.

_Sleep hath its own world,_   
_And a wide realm of wild reality,_   
_And dreams in their development have breath,_   
_And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy_

Aziraphale sat at the table, sky blue eyes screwed shut as he tried to concentrate on the task Crowley had set him to. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he found he was holding his breath. Finally he let it out, head bowing forward a bit as he did so. He wiped off the sweat that had trickled down his temples.

To pass the time, Crowley was trying to teach him how to ground in space. With any luck, it would not be a skill he needed, but the lessons helped keep the boredom away. They had done all the research they could and while they still engaged in fun in the bedroom, there was little else to do besides eat, sleep and try not to let the cabin fever get to them

“I can’t, Crowley. I just can’t.” Trying to ground his miracle-working abilities to his own spirit was like trying to thread a particularly small-eyed needle with a very thick piece of thread. 

Crowley bit back the impatience he was feeling because he knew Aziraphale could do this, choosing to smile at him instead. “You tried. C’mon, angel. I’ll wish us up some dinner. What do you want?”

“Thank you, but I’m not that hungry right now, maybe later?” 

“All right.” Crowley stood up from his seat at the table to go to the controls. Punching a few buttons he looked at the screens. “This is still so bloody weird. I don’t belong in a ship flying through space and I’ve spent time up here.”

“How much longer?” asked Aziraphale. “I’ve very much lost track of time up here.”

“About a month or so and that’s just getting to the system. Then we have to find a planet.”

“I don’t know . . . sometimes it feels like it would be easier to set some alarms and sleep until they go off telling us a planet has been found,” sighed Aziraphale. “I’m just so bored.”

Crowley shrugged. “We could.” He walked over to the back of Aziraphale’s chair, reaching down to wrap his arms around the angel. “I wouldn’t object to spending an excessive amount of time in bed with you.”

“We’re not sleeping for a hundred years.”

“I would if I could, but apparently we have to try to save the world,” replied Crowley. “Again.”

He walked over to set alarms that would be heard in the bedroom before following Aziraphale in there. The angel was dressing in the pyjamas Crowley had conjured up earlier. He had the bottoms on, but the shirt that went with them was draped on the foot of the bed. Crowley snatched it up as Aziraphale made brief noises of protest.

“At least leave this off. I want to sleep next to you, not your shirt.” Crowley threw the shirt on the floor before snapping his fingers to change his own clothes to a pair of black pyjama bottoms and nothing else. “You’ve slept naked plenty of times. You can go without it.”

They got into bed, Aziraphale taking Crowley into his arms. “There. Does this work for you?”

“Yes.” 

They were spooning, Aziraphale wrapped around Crowley with his chest against the demon’s back. Crowley scooted carefully in closer, making sure almost every portion of his exposed skin was touching Aziraphale’s. He sighed.

“Good night, angel. May we wake when we find a suitable planet.”

“Good night, my dear. Here’s to this all working out.”

Pulling up the covers snugly, they drifted off to sleep. The space ship sped towards their destination on autopilot, alarms set to go off if it ran into trouble or came across that needed planet. On a cabinet near the cockpit, a fly came into greater consciousness, keeping an eye on their travels as their destination hopefully was in sight now.

The being it was linked to checked in to see that everything was quiet in the ship and put the fly back on its own version of autopilot. They had waited almost a year; a little more time wouldn’t matter.

Back in the ship alarms buzzed annoying loud in Crowley’s ears. With a groan he scooted over away from Aziraphale to get out of bed and check what was going on. The angel grumbled as he threw a pillow over his head, complaining until Crowley was able to shut the alarms off.

It had been a little over a month and a half since they decided to sleep off the remaining portion of their trip. Pulling up data on the planet found, Crowley looked it over. It was a gas giant, therefore useless to them. Snorting, he reset the alarm.

“Thanks for nothing,” he muttered to the nav system as he reset their course, pointing them towards another planet he had memorized before they started this entire adventure. Climbing back into bed with Aziraphale, he flopped down nearly on top of him. “False alarm. Go back to sleep.”

Aziraphale muttered something incomprehensible and was quiet. Crowley dropped off again soon afterwards, draped across the angel.

There were several more false alarms over the next few weeks, Crowley becoming increasingly upset with each unusable planet they came across. Aziraphale did his best to keep him calm. Coaxing Crowley back to bed after the latest disappointment, he sat on top of him, cupping his face in his hands and kissing him tenderly.

“We’ll find one. I know we will.” The angel smiled down on him lovingly. He felt something start to poke at him in about the region of his bum. “Crowley, really?”

“You’re the one who sat on me,” murmured the demon. He thrust up, playfully bouncing Aziraphale.

The angel slid off of him, spinning him around quickly before Crowley knew what was going on, then requested he get on his hands and knees. He leaned forward, grabbing Crowley’s nipples and massaging them roughly.

“Are you all right with this?” he whispered in the demon’s ear. 

“Yes.” What clothes they were wearing disappeared. 

Aziraphale pinched his nipples, yanking just enough to make Crowley gasp. “Good, because I want to give you quite the smiting.”

“Promise?” Crowley felt his nipples being yanked so hard he yelped from the delicious pain. “Yessss.”

“You tell me if it gets to be too much,” said Aziraphale as he kissed Crowley’s shoulder blades, occasionally nipping. “I won’t have you traumatized.”

Aziraphale limited himself to some rough foreplay of hair-pulling and nipple-pinching. Crowley had been through so much and while they both loved rough sex now and again, he felt taking it slow was the way to get back to such scrumptious play. He pinched, rubbed and pulled on Crowley’s nipples until the slightest touch had the demon whimpering. Tracing his hand up the demon’s side, along his spine to his neck, he moved up just a bit further until he had a nice handful of red hair to pull.

Gently yanking Crowley’s head back as far as he dared, he leaned forward to lick along his snake tattoo, tracing over the shape of it with his tongue. When he reached up to caress his cheek, he noticed that Crowley was frozen like an animal in headlights. Aziraphale let go of his hair, concerned. The demon was breathing shallowly and seemed to have retreated into his own head.

“Crowley? Are you ok? Crowley?”

He got him off his hands and knees, and into his lap where he held him close while stroking the back of his head gently. He could feel Crowley’s panicked breath on his shoulder where he rested his head. He held him for a while before attempting to get the demon to look at him. Finally after several tries, he got those serpentine eyes to make contact with him.

“Angel?”

“Yes, it’s me, Crowley. I’m here. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that . . .” His voice broke and tears formed in his eyes. He hugged the demon tightly. “I would never intentionally hurt you. I’m sorry, love.”

Crowley was responding; Aziraphale felt his arm press against his back tightly followed by the other one, which had been hanging loosely at his side. “I know you wouldn’t, angel. I know.”

“Shall we get dressed? We can cuddle all you need,” said Aziraphale. “You can talk to me about it, if you want. I wish you would tell me.”

“No. No clothes. I want to continue.”

“Crowley, no. That is not a good idea at all.”

“If I don’t, I let the fear win.” He shifted himself so not only was he seated in the angel’s lap; his arse was perfectly lined up with Aziraphale’s cock. “Please?”

Aziraphale had his doubts, but it this was what Crowley needed to get through it, he’d consent to it.

The angel was frozen there with worry, sky blue eyes large as he watched Crowley bear down on him, the look of desire slowly returning to his face. Aziraphale wasn’t at the right angle to move. Instead he traced his hands over Crowley’s neck and shoulders as the demon hung on to him pumping himself up and down in a motion that was closer to rocking as he knelt there in his lap. His own hands were against Aziraphale’s shoulders, steadying himself. It was awkward but it seemed to work for now. Aziraphale laid his hands on Crowley’s head, stroking his hair as the demon rocked on him. Stilling them on his temples, he wished he could feel the link that happened when he did the spell needed to check for injuries to heal. To feel Crowley on that level during this act . . . 

But oddly enough he_ could_ feel the connection of their minds as he did so, heightened so much by the act they were partaking of. Every portion of Crowley’s mind exploded with the colours of lust, passion and love with the darkest black of fear lurking in the back, threatening to burst forth again. No, he couldn’t let it. He would not let fear overcome his demon. _His_ partner. _His _love. Aziraphale grabbed a hold of it, wrestling it back.

_No_, he told the fear. _You cannot have him. His is _mine.

_Aziraphale? You’re grounding!_

_Come for me, my love. Just go ahead and release. _

He wasn’t paying attention to what was going on in the physical sense, being completely concentrated on Crowley’s emotions. He felt everything flare up blindingly as Crowley climaxed, all that love, passion and sexual energy nearly burning him with its brightness. But he held back that fear for his demon, making sure it stayed out of their lovemaking, allowing Crowley to forget about what happened during their first attempt. 

_Hang on, Crowley, my love. I’m going to try to heal you. Brace yourself, ok?_

_What?_

Aziraphale grabbed a hold of the dark and _pulled_. His entire upper body jerked with the mental effort as he did, taking him by surprise. Crowley’s golden eyes registered shock as well a moment before the demon crumpled to the bed in a dead faint. Aziraphale made his prone body more comfortable, laying down beside him and covered them with the blankets. 

The blackness he pulled out of Crowley writhed before his eyes for a moment before dissipating into nothingness. Aziraphale sighed with relief. Hopefully it was over. The memories of Celion’s inappropriate behaviour towards him would remain if they stayed in this timeline, but certain actions would no longer trigger him during their lovemaking. It was a start, but Aziraphale knew they had a lot of work ahead of them if Crowley was to be completely whole again. It would all have to start with him deciding to talk about it. 

With an experimental wave, he cleaned up the remaining mess, pleased to be able to use his powers out here in the middle of the galaxy. But what he had done was exhausting and he lay his head down beside Crowley’s, remembering nothing after that. 

“Angel?” A hand was shaking him awake. He turned over on his pillow, blinking sleepily, to find Crowley propped up on an elbow beside him. “What did you do? I feel different. There’s not that . . . I don’t know . . . strange sense in the back of my mind anymore, like the fear I felt earlier is gone.”

“I got rid of it.” Aziraphale’s eyes closed again as he snuggled back into the blankets.

“You got rid of it? That’s what you did when you were poking around in there, angel? But I thought you couldn’t do mind healing.” The demon’s serpentine eyes were large with surprise and a bit of wonder.

“I guess it’s different with you. There’s complete trust between us and you let me in very deeply,” Aziraphale replied. “I held back the fear while we made love then yanked it out when you climaxed.”

“You grounded,” added Crowley. “Finally you got what I was trying to tell you. I’m proud of you, angel.” He leaned over to give Aziraphale a kiss on the forehead. “Do a miracle. I want see if your grounding’s holding well.”

Aziraphale conjured up a pair of sunglasses and handed them to Crowley. It was the first pair he had seen since the airfield at Tadfield. Those had been knocked off of his face when Hell had decided to take him prisoner, Heaven hadn’t allowed him any and here with Aziraphale he didn’t need them. Staring at them for a long time, he finally put them on the table beside the bed.

“You’re grounding on me,” the demon said matter-of-factly. 

“I’m what?”

“Instead of grounding on yourself, you’re grounding on me.” Crowley fell back on his pillow laughing. “Oh, angel. I don’t know _how _you managed to do that, but you did. It’s a good thing to know how to ground on something at least. There’s no guarantee we’ll find anything here at Alpha Centauri. We might have to move on to the next system.”

Aziraphale just muttered something Crowley could not understand while a blush crept up his cheeks. He received kisses on those red cheeks before the two of them curled up under the blankets to sleep away the time until the alarm alerted them to another planet. With any luck, the next one would be the one.

It was another three weeks before they were awoken again, but when Crowley threw on a dressing gown to go check the alarm his intake of breath was heard at the back of the cabin by Aziraphale. He turned around from the console, looking at the angel standing confused in the doorway to the bedroom, his hand clutching his own fluffy dressing robe closed. Crowley broke into an uncertain smile.

“Better get your clothes on,” he said. “We have company.”

Outside the windows, a ship that didn’t look like it was designed by a couple of children came into view. Crowley and Aziraphale simply stared at it, unsure of how to actually contact it and hoping it wasn’t about to blow them into millions of tiny pieces. Finally the strange ship made contact first.

“Unidentified ship,” crackled a speaker somewhere on the overly busy console. “We mean you no harm. Can you identify yourself?”

That wasn’t English. It was Enochian, the ancient language of angels. Crowley hadn’t heard it in thousands of years since Hell developed their own language soon after they were all cast out. Aziraphale stood beside him, eyes wide.

“Uh, yeah. Hi,” replied Crowley, not sure how to answer and hoping his Enochian wasn’t rusty. “We’re from Earth.”

There was a pause. “Earth? We thought that was destroyed thousands of years ago. Hold on. We’re going to pull you in. Prepare for landing.”

“Ok,” said Crowley uncertainly. “Just give us a minute to buckle up here.”

The whole ship started to vibrate just as they got themselves strapped in.

~*~*~

This was it. Something was happening. Beelzebub looked on in the scrying mirror hopeful that finally those two had found a planet on which to implement their plan. Hell was no longer the ordered chaos of past millennia. It was falling apart as factions of demons fought each other for control of the better portions of territory. So far Beelzebub and their lieutenants had kept the rebels at bay and their little patch of Hell safe, but they weren’t sure how much longer their troops could hold on.

They were more than willing now to help out Crowley and his angel if it ended the nightmare the demons were all living in. Nightmares were nice, to an extent, but defeat had shown the demons just how bad nightmares could be if they were directly involved in them.

They directed the fly to once again sit on Crowley’s jacket, hidden against the black fabric. This time it crawled up to hide in a fold of the collar at the back of his neck. One could never be too careful as there were no other flies to replace it if something should happen. They were pinning all their hope on this one fragile creature and the good will of the pair who had just found life beyond Earth.

~*~*~

Aziraphale clung tightly to Crowley’s arm as they stared back at the diplomatic ensemble in front of them. The ships had landed on a pad set before a beach of pink sand. Before the beach was a forest that was a riot of colours, green not among them. It was all so very strange, yet standing before them were figures of a familiar form. 

“Crowley,” whispered the shocked angel. “They have wings.”

“I noticed,” Crowley whispered back. 

Indeed they did. For the aliens were humanoid in shape, some with white feathered wings, some with black bat wings. They were dressed in what appeared to be tunics and leggings that varied in length depending on the individual – some were wearing full-length ones, others had ones that came to about the knee and still others had leggings that cut off mid-thigh. Clothing was of various colours from pastels to bright shades. Hair styles tended towards shoulder-length or longer, but one or two had shorter hair.

“Uh . . . hello,” ventured Crowley, never the diplomat. “I’m Crowley, this is Aziraphale. It’s nice to meet the friendly people who took control of our ship.”

“I am Nattiel. Other introductions can wait for now,” said the leader who was dressed in a calming shade of green. “Will you accompany us to the village where we can talk?”

“Sure,” said Crowley. 

Aziraphale just nodded.

The trek to the village did not take long, but it was long enough for Aziraphale and Crowley to have a brief conversation quietly between them. Aziraphale was unnerved as he spoke to the demon.

“They have to be angels . . . the language, the wings . . .”

“Then are the other ones demons? Weird wings and no animal characteristics. Wherever they’re from, their Hell isn’t a bloody zoo. Must be nice not to have snake eyes.” He had grabbed the sunglasses Aziraphale conjured up earlier when they left the ship and was glad he did.

“I think your eyes are lovely. Such a beautiful shade of golden yellow.”

“Yeah, you’ve had six thousand years to get used to them.”

“You’re just feeling nervous, my dear. Take some deep breaths.”

They walked through a path in the forest to a rather sophisticated looking village made up of rather modern-looking buildings made mostly of brick. They entered one on the edge of the town that appeared to be some kind of community meeting place. Inside was a large open space filled with backless chairs that more resembled benches for one person. The entourage gathered enough of those in a circle so that all could sit.

“Please, sit,” said Nattiel said. She gestured towards the configuration. Awkwardly Crowley and Aziraphale chose a couple of chairs next to each other and found all eyes on them. It took all of Aziraphale’s will power to keep himself from blushing thanks to the embarrassment he was feeling at the situation.

Nattiel must of have noticed their discomfort. “We’ll just do introductions and then I’ll talk to you two alone. Sound good?”

Ten different names were called out to them, not that either of them would remember them then they all shuffled out except for Nattiel. She smiled at the two newcomers and waited until the last being left, shutting the door behind them.

“Earth, huh?” she asked. “I’m curious now about you two. We left Earth over ten thousand years ago when factions started to develop between angels and demons. From our observations as we left, the entire planet burned.”

“What?” Crowley blurted out. “Earth was just destroyed in the last war between Heaven and Hell about two years ago. We escaped to find a safe harbour out in the galaxy where we could live in peace.”

“Can you tell us your whole story from the beginning?” Aziraphale asked, quite confused right now.

“If you don’t mind taking some time to listen, then I’ll tell you,” she replied. “But I must warn you, the tale’s quite long and I’ll want to hear yours in return so we can solve this puzzle.” With a wave she conjured up some comfortable stuffed chairs that were little more than pillows on legs for them to retire to instead of the hard seating they were currently using. “You might want to get comfortable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning quote -- _The Dream_, Lord Byron


	16. Cosmic Pawns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recent revelations have shaken Aziraphale’s faith in their mission and Crowley’s trauma from the brutal time spent in Heaven’s cells starts to bubble to the surface.

_More justly, seat worthier of Gods, as built _  
_With second thoughts, reforming what was old! _  
_O Earth, how like to Heaven, if not preferred _  
_For what God, after better, worse would build?_

_They were created by the Almighty as two races, angels and demons, to work together to build the world and cosmos. The Earth would be theirs to live on with various animal and plant species that were imagined. The Almighty would walk among them and resided on Her own island, accessible to all who needed Her. _

_Demons were creatures of the night with eyesight suited to the darkness who loved the stars and created many of the galaxy’s celestial bodies. Angels loved the daylight, feeling joy at the sight of the rising sun and were responsible for the beautiful blooms that occupied the planet. Like yin and yang, the species complimented each other. No animosity existed between them. In fact, they were created immortal, but with the ability to pair off (or more as some instances of polyamory occurred). There were many angel/demon pairings in the population. _

_They lived many years in peace but slowly dark ideas found their way into the two societies to poison minds, breeding contempt between members of the two species. Slowly hatred grew and spread until it was commonplace to think one’s species superior over the other. Eventually interspecies relationships and friendships had to be hidden or the participants were harassed endlessly. Towns split, becoming segregated then the time came that most angels and demons would not reside in the same city. _

_Finally demons and angels completely separated, forming their own exclusive societies that forbid interaction with the other, each occupying different continents on Earth. But that wasn’t good enough. Both wanted to push the other off the Earth. Skirmishes broke out, then battles. The Almighty stepped in, pleading for an end to the insanity, telling both sides they were of the same stock but with different abilities. Her pleas fell on deaf ears. Earth was on the brink of all-out war._

_About one hundred beings who did not agree with the turn of things started looking to the stars for a safe place to interact safely. To get away from an Earth where they were no longer allowed to mingle. Most feared the coming war, concerned it would end in the destruction of one species or the other. They planned, and then eventually left the planet entirely._

_Their escape occurred during the war itself and they tried to wait it out, but when it looked like nothing would survive and the Earth itself would face destruction, they could no longer afford to stay. Heading starward, traveling for decades to find a suitable environment, they finally came upon this planet in the Alpha Centauri System and built a new home. _

_It was not easy going and there were arguments on how to set up their new society of about sixty demons and forty angels, but all was sorted out. Memories of a Paradise long destroyed kept any new complications from blowing up into serious problems. After about a thousand years, they had their new Paradise running smoothly and both species lived in peace, sharing the duties required to run the society equally. It had been a harmonic existence together since, developing a society that respected the planet and promoted technology when needed. Conflict occurred, of course, but they had developed many ways to manage and resolve it before it grew into something that threatened to destroy them. Since then the hundred former angels and demons of a destroyed Earth lived in peace, unaware that they had successors._

Nattiel’s guests looked at her in shock after she finished her story. Crowley finally stared at the floor while Aziraphale couldn’t help but lean over and all but bury his head in Crowley’s shoulder. The demon wiggled his arm out from beneath him and wrapped it around his side.

“It was just you two on the craft?” Nattiel asked.

“Yes,” said Aziraphale emotionlessly.

“And you’re mates?”

Crowley looked at his angel with a smile and Aziraphale blushed. “Yeah, you could say that. So, when was your Earth destroyed?”

“About ten thousand years ago.”

“Hmmm, my best guess then is our Heaven was created about nine thousand ago. The Rebellion happened about eight thousand. Earth and the Garden were made six thousand years ago. And it’s all gone now.”

Aziraphale just nodded.

Nattiel was curious. “You had a Rebellion and Earth survived?”

“Not exactly. This was before Earth’s creation. There was only Heaven,” said Crowley. “The Almighty recreated just the angels. Some chose to rebel against her and Fell, becoming demons. Some of us weren’t on the side of the Rebellion but Fell anyway because we were skeptics who asked too many questions. Hell was created when we were kicked out of Heaven.”

“So, you’re a demon,” she said to Crowley before turning to Aziraphale. “And you’re an angel. But there weren’t originally demons?”

“No, there weren’t,” said Aziraphale. “We all started out as angels.”

He launched into the history of Heaven, Hell and Earth with input from Crowley along the way. Their host was intrigued. She stopped them every so often to ask questions and get clarifications, seeming to be both curious and confused by the concept of one species who split into two and the introduction of humans.

When they were done, the three of them sat in silence a moment or two, Nattiel digesting all they told her while they pondered what she said. Crowley wasn’t sure what to think; Aziraphale was a bit distressed over it all.

“So the Almighty started over with a new system and that didn’t work, either,” Nattiel said. “She’s just going to keep experimenting until She gets it right.”

“No, she doesn’t want to,” exclaimed Aziraphale. “We were sent here by Her to stop it. She’s working through me and the Antichrist behind the scenes to make sure it happens.”

“Are you sure about that?” Nattiel asked after hearing both of them explain everything from scars to dreams to God pushing Aziraphale towards signing the confession. “Are you sure there’s meaning behind all this? It’s not just a series of coincidences?” 

“There is or my scar wouldn’t have come back,” said Crowley quietly. 

“Well, if you have faith, I guess.” She rose, beckoning to them. “Come. I’ll show you to some quarters. When you’re ready we can show you around the village more.”

She took them to a smaller building situated closer to the center of the town, done in a light beige brick. It was utilitarian in look and the inside didn’t have the amenities they were used to. It was just a large room decorated with giant pillows for sitting on, and low tables with a large white square that looked like some kind of entertainment system on one of them. A small kitchen sat off the room and another small room off the opposite side with a bathtub. 

Nattiel pointed to a button on the counter in the kitchen that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “Press this if you need anything. I’m just next door. Normally we use these to help out injured neighbors while they heal. We have yet to have guests until now. This place is only empty because of a marriage in our ranks.” She walked over to the large white square. “I don’t know how things were on your Earth, but you can listen to music on that. Here’s the button to turn it on and these will take you through selections. We have books, as well. Tell me what you like and I can bring it to you. There are other activities to do, too, but I assume you’d like to rest and just adjust to life here for now.”

They nodded. She moved on to the kitchen where she showed them the pantry where food was kept, magic keeping everything from spoiling. The oven and cooker were separate but surprisingly similar to what they were used to. The bathroom was next and contained a sunken stone pool of continuously circulating water. Thus, having shown them everything, Nattiel said she’d give them a few hours before checking in again.

“Well, it’s going to be boring here. No coffee, no cocoa, no television or restaurants to eat at,” said Crowley. “They might not even have alcohol. The sooner we get back to a restored Earth, the better.”

He flopped on some of the pillows and stared dispassionately at what passed for entertainment in these parts. Aziraphale sat primly next to him, unsure about seating that was directly on the ground. He looked troubled.

Crowley used his powers to pull more pillows closer, laying down and taking the angel with him so that they were spooning there in this strange living room on a planet full of angels and demons created ages before them. Kissing Aziraphale’s cheek, he stroked his curls briefly.

“I am so glad to be speaking English again,” he said as he nuzzled against Aziraphale’s neck, nipping along his ear. “I haven’t heard or spoken Enochian in literally forever. I was probably rusty.”

“Do you think she’s right? That they were an experiment that failed and we were the next one? Will the Almighty might just chalk this all up as a failure and start again?”

“Why would she put the effort into helping us if that’s the case?”

“I don’t know . . . maybe it’s a case of if we can’t make it happen, then She’ll just write it off and start over. Hedge Her bets,” said Aziraphale. “That makes us sound disposable.” He scooted back slightly, giving himself more contact with Crowley’s chest. “I just don’t know. What we’ve learned changes everything.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions, ok? We need to figure out as much as possible about what’s going on first. Now just relax for a bit, angel. We’ve been through a lot lately.” Crowley gave him reassuring kisses as they lay there wondering.

~*~*~

Off in a corner, a fly watched and the eyes behind the fly far away cut the spell down to the minimum. So this wasn’t the Almighty’s first time around. How many had there been and if those two didn’t succeed in changing the timeline, how many more would come after? Beelzebub didn’t have the opportunity right now to ponder it for trouble was brewing close to their territory. They had to go meet with their lieutenants. 

~*~*~

Nattiel came back for them several hours later, finding them sitting in the larger room talking while soothing music played in the background. She smiled when Crowley opened the door to let her in. Aziraphale stood up as soon as he saw who it was.

“Hello Crowley; hello, Aziraphale.” She smiled at both of them. “I’d like to invite you to dinner at my house. It’ll just be me and my mate because I don’t wish to overwhelm you two with introductions and all that.”

“That would be lovely,” said Aziraphale from behind Crowley. “How long until dinner?”

“I would say about thirty waterdrops,” she replied. “But that probably makes no sense to you two. Here.” She showed them a type of water clock they failed to notice in the corner of the kitchen counter that was made of delicate glass with markings etched on it that measured smaller increments of time and larger ones. “Waterdrops are our small measures of time while waterflows are the larger ones. I’m not sure how it would translate to your system.”

Aziraphale pulled out his pocket watch. Crowley’s big expensive one had been confiscated when Hell first arrested him. 

“I’m guessing they’re pretty much analogous to our minutes and hours. We’ll find out here with a bit of observation,” Aziraphale replied, looking first at the water clock then his own pocket watch. “Just give us some time to freshen up and we’ll be happy to join you.”

“Knock on the door when you come over.” The Alpha Centauri angel let herself out.

“At least they’re friendly,” commented Aziraphale. “We could have landed on a hostile planet. But their ship didn’t seem that complicated. How did they pull us down?”

“Miracles,” replied Crowley. “I’m guessing that. They seem to be an odd mix of technology. You’d think they’d have cities floating in the clouds and some kind of flying cars by now.”

He waved his hand over himself. Wrinkles were gone from his clothes and his hair looked stylishly tousled. Aziraphale ran a quick hand through his curls, pulled down his waistcoat and straightened his bowtie. 

“Well,” said the angel. “Maybe they prefer a simpler way of living?”

“Shall we wait a few minutes before we go?”

“I think so. Make it look like we put in _some _effort rather than just straightened things and got rid of wrinkles.”

Fifteen minutes later they headed out to walk across lavender coloured grass shot through with blue to knock on the door of the building next door that looked similar to theirs except in grey brick. Nattiel opened the door and beckoned them inside. 

Standing inside the door was a male-presenting demon who nodded to both of them, a hand over his heart. "Welcome to our home. I am Dai, Nattiel’s mate.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Crowley. “I’m Crowley.” 

“And I’m Aziraphale, his mate.”

Crowley about beamed upon hearing that. 

“I’m so glad both of you could make it.” Nattiel ushered them into the lounge and offered up pillows.

Carefully they both sat down looking at their hosts once everyone was seated. Aziraphale smiled nervously while Crowley cleared his throat. It seemed Nattiel and Dai were looking at their lack of wings. Nattiel, of course, had white feathered angel wings while her mate sported black bat-like ones. 

“Did the Almighty give up on wings?” Nattiel asked.

“No,” said Aziraphale. “We can just put them in the celestial or infernal planes when we don’t want them out.”

“Interesting,” said Dai. “We were created as spirits fused with bodies so maybe that’s why. From what I can see, you’re spirits who can join with bodies if you so choose, but don’t need to. We only had one plane, though.”

“I explained the whole Realm idea to him. It’s quite interesting,” added Nattiel.

“We need to have a body to interact on the physical plane,” added Crowley in a voice that was sounding a bit strained to Aziraphale. He was not happy about all the questions. They were starting to feel intrusive.

“Oh. Sounds logical.”

Talk drifted to the village and the people inhabiting it. Traditions. Activities. Government. All matter of subjects that interested Aziraphale but made Crowley’s mind drift. Finally Nattiel excused herself to check on dinner, saying Dai was a great baker but couldn’t cook to save his life. Returning, she announced it was ready and led everyone to a dining room off the kitchen where a table of regular height sat with four chairs around it and food Crowley couldn’t recognize on it. 

It was all vegetarian. Animals were not domesticated here nor were they hunted. Aziraphale was all for trying the meal before him, but the strange colours and textures put Crowley off. Food should not be bright blue or have consistencies that resembled cooked bark. He picked at it, eating as much as he needed to be polite. And that was only because Aziraphale would be on his arse about it later if he didn’t.

The angel was chatting with their hosts about meals on the Earth they were used to. Crowley nodded, adding a canned phrase here and there to pretend to be interested, but he wasn’t. He didn’t want to be here. He had no desire to stay on this planet any longer than necessary to work the spells and get back to Earth where they belonged. There was no desire in him to study this culture, like there was in Aziraphale.

Suddenly Aziraphale was addressing him. “Wings, my dear. We were talking about wing colours . . . like how angels have very diluted pastel colouring to their feathers, while demon wings are darker muddier colours, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Crowley mumbled. “Except my wings are pure black and his are pure white. No idea why. All the demons I’ve met have actual colour to their wings – dark reds and greens, browns, greys and blue-greys.”

“We would love to see your wings.” Dai was especially eyeing Crowley who suddenly felt like a rare species of animal on display at a zoo. 

“They’re just feathered wings that happen to be black. Please excuse me. I should check up on the ship and make sure everything’s ok. It was nice meeting you.”

He fled, walking the paths back to the silly little silver spaceship created out of thin air by an eleven-year-old with supernatural abilities. 

Aziraphale watched him go with a helpless look, but stayed at dinner with their hosts feeling it rude to just leave as well. “I’m sorry. He’s been through a lot lately with the War and everything. It’s probably all a bit too much.”

Back at the ship, Crowley sat in one of the seats in the cockpit, fiddling idly with the dials. He wanted very badly to pull Aziraphale back in the ship and take off for a planet that was less . . . complicated. He even went as far as to pull up stats on possible other rocky planets in the area. Now if he could just convince Aziraphale that leaving was in their best interests. They were here to get work done, not socialize with the natives.

_Crowley_

He stiffened because he knew that voice and it was impossible that it would be heard here. 

“That strange food I ate must be making me hallucinate,” he muttered and went back to his study of the local cosmos.

_No, you’re not hearing thingzz_, the fly beside his hand replied. 

“Beelzebub. So how did you manage this? Aren’t you locked in Hell somewhere?”

_I releazzed some fliezz before being exiled. It wazz pure luck one wazz in the area when you and that angel showed up in London. So here I am. Sort of._

“Stop with the speech impediment. You need to buzz as much as I need to hiss. Now what do you want?” sneered Crowley. “Better make the answer quick before I decide to smash your link to this place into a puddle of goo.” He raised his fist.

_To help, that’s all. When you do those time travel spells you’ll most likely need a link to Earth. I can provide that through the fly here and the ones still there. You might be a traitor and I don’t trust that angel, but aiding you two so Heaven doesn’t win is a risk worth taking._

“Why? Eternal Hell just not doing it for you?”

_The Realm is tearing itself apart. I hear Heaven is crumbling, too. Soon there will be nothing. I have a vested interest in staying alive you might say._

Crowley sat there silently for several minutes weighing the dangers of trying the spells without being linked to Earth and trusting his untrustworthy former boss. Finally he sighed.

“Ok. I’ll reluctantly take you up on your offer, but only because I witnessed Heaven coming apart and I can imagine Hell doing the exact same thing. But I _will _be putting protections on my spell casting,” replied Crowley. “If you decide to try to take me out, I’ll make sure the betrayal backlashes and takes you with me. The fly stays here. You don’t need to be snooping around this place. If I see it anywhere but this ship the deal’s off and we’ll take our chances . . . On second thought . . .”

With a swift movement, he captured the fly in his palm, transferring it into a jar he conjured up. He stared at the little black insect as it buzzed uselessly around the inside of the jar for a moment before shutting it away in a cabinet.

_Wait . . . what are you doing?_

“Just ensuring you keep your end of the bargain,” he replied smoothly. “Besides, you don’t know what’s on this planet. At least your link’s safe shut away in that jar. Do you need holes in the lid?”

_Your joke isn’t funny and you’re on thin ice, Crowley._

Beelzebub would live with this indignation if only because he was right about the environment here – they couldn’t risk the fly getting eaten or otherwise destroyed – and the stakes in this game were high enough they could tolerate Crowley’s bullshit for now. Later, they might not be so generous. If they remembered anything from this timeline.

Crowley headed to the bedroom where he lay on the bed in the dark with the door shut. He was not going back to that village or that house where people would look upon him as some kind of weird spectacle. If Aziraphale wanted to play Eighth Wonder of the World for a bunch of curious angels and demons from an era gone by, that was his business. Crowley was starting to feel the trauma of his time in Heaven and the extra stresses they were encountering were making his mental state that much worse.

He lay there in the dark with the blankets pulled up almost over his head until he lost track of time and eventually dozed off. He awoke to a light touch on his shoulder, looking up to find Aziraphale standing there smiling worriedly down at him. The angel sat on the bed.

“Hello, my dear. Are you all right? You fairly ran out of there. I’m sorry I had to stay or I’d have been here sooner.”

“I’ll be fine. This is going to take some getting used to, that is all. I’m glad we’re only staying here temporarily.”

A guilty look crossed Aziraphale’s face. “Yes. I was thinking of that. Do we really need to be changing the timelines to make everything right? Why is it always up to us? And . . .” he paused, getting a little more emotional. “And we’ve seen that the Almighty will just start over if things go pear-shaped. We’re an experiment, nothing more. If we fail, Heaven will eventually fall under all the fighting and I wouldn’t be surprised if Hell’s experiencing the same thing. She’ll just reboot that part of the universe again. What is the point?”

“We’re the point, angel. That’s our home and has been for a little over six thousand years now. I’d like it back because I don’t want to try to settle down among a population of angels after what I’ve been through. I have a whole headful of memories involving angels and their cruelty I’d just like to forget and that’s hard when you’re in a village full of them. It doesn’t matter how nice this lot might be.” Crowley pulled the blanket closer around him so now only his face was visible. “And the one demon I met isn’t much better with his curiosity about my wings. I’m tired of not feeling like . . . like a person. I spent a year or so being a slave in Heaven, something to be beaten on a whim by Celion and his thugs, and addressed by number rather than my name. Now I’m a curiosity . . . something to be gawked at because my wings are different from theirs.”

“I’m an angel. Do you really think that little of me?” asked Aziraphale, more than a little hurt and not fully comprehending what Crowley was trying to convey.

“You’re not an angel to me,” replied Crowley, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. He was telling Aziraphale what made him uncomfortable about the situation after all the brutal treatment he went through and the angel was the one getting offended by it. “You’re . . . you. I can’t explain more than that. You’re not them and you never have been.”

“Crowley . . . I can’t go back knowing what I know.”

“And the Almighty is trying to fix this you told me! What happened to your faith?” Crowley had sat up, the blanket falling around his waist. 

“That kind of goes away when you hear that your Creator can just reboot everything when it doesn’t work.”

“She _wants_ it to work, don’t you see? Why else would She give us help instead of just letting everything implode so She could start over?” Crowley gave Aziraphale a serious look. “She might very well be doing this for us, in fact. She went out of Her way to make sure we had safe place to go to complete our mission. And to stay if we fail in that mission. I’ll learn to live with that if I have to, but we need to do what we came here to do.” He sat upon the very edge of the bed to manifest his wings, which still looked clipped. He had more important things to do so forgot about taking care of that. “For Hell’s sake, Aziraphale, She went so far as to use dreams, direct encouragement and sigil-shaped scars to help us out. She even engaged in a little subterfuge here. God, an entity who doesn’t talk to anyone anymore.” 

He ran his hand along his invisible primaries then took Aziraphale’s and watched his fingers go right through them. Aziraphale gently yanked his hand back.

“I can’t do this, Crowley. I’m sorry, my love. But I can’t be a pawn anymore. I’m staying here.” He paused. “I’ll be in the house. Please, do come with me.”

With a sad smile, he got up off the bed and left the ship entirely. Crowley watched him go, in a state of shock. He couldn’t do the spells by himself. Now what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning quote -- _Paradise Lost Book 9_, John Milton


	17. What Nightmares May Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale wants to stay with those who settled on this planet, but Crowley can't. Being among angels again is bringing up memories he'd rather remained dormant and filling his sleep with nightmares about torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning. There is some body horror here. I don’t into detail but if you want to skip it, don’t read the first portion of this chapter that’s in italics. I was watching that first episode of Star Trek: Picard with Seven of Nine in it when this idea came to me. If you’ve seen the episode, you’ll know why.

_Yesterday all my troubles seemed so far away._  
Now it looks as though they're here to stay.  
Oh, I believe in yesterday.

Aziraphale crouched in the vegetable garden listening as a demon named Tabbas showed him how she grew a rather tasty root that rather resembled a carrot in shape and taste. They simply called it a “purpleroot” after its colour. Another vegetable they called “yellowtails” were shaped like green beans but tasted oddly enough like one of the less sweet varieties of apple – crisp and somewhat sour.

_Crowley would like all this_, he thought somewhat sadly, but the demon was in one of his black moods again and hadn’t been out of the ship in days. Aziraphale was pulling double duty, spending time between the ship with Crowley and being a sort of ambassador among the native population to keep relations with them positive. He simply could not isolate himself on the ship and ignore them. They were living here among these angels and demons so at least one of them had to be sociable.

Thankfully they were understanding of Crowley’s current state of mind. They had watched their own Earth being destroyed and had to work through their own feelings. When he did make appearances they welcomed him with open arms, making sure to keep conversations positive. He seemed to respond favourably to that, but it didn’t keep his memories at bay.

“This has all been very interesting. Thank you so much for the lessons and I’ve been enjoying the books you and your friends have lent me. This has been quite an experience. On my Earth demons and angels do not get along at all and never have. Crowley and I are the exception.”

“I’m glad you two could escape and I hope to get to know the both of you better. Say hello to him for me, will you?” Tabbas replied. “I need to go get ready for the concert tonight. I’m playing the harp in it. I really hope you both can make it. I know Crowley’s having trouble adjusting, so tell him I’m thinking of him.”

“I’ll try my best to get him to come, my dear girl.” Aziraphale rose when she did, his direction taking him back to the ship where he could check in on Crowley.

He found Crowley asleep in the bed when he entered. The bedroom had by default become his safe spot as it was the one comfortable place in familiar surroundings. Aziraphale had gone as far as to miracle up a soft weighted blanket for him to use when the angel wasn’t there, hoping the gentle pressure it produced would simulate when Aziraphale lay across his chest to calm him down during troubled sleep. Apparently the pressure lulled the body out of anxiety and into relaxation. It was one of those things he read about before the War in his ongoing research of humans and figured it was worth a try since they picked up so many human characteristics over the long years on Earth. Crowley spent a lot of time wrapped in it when he was alone.

Aziraphale couldn’t understand why the sudden change. Yes, Crowley had been through a lot and really it was something that was going to need to be addressed at some point, but everything had broken loose here and now. Was it the different surroundings? The new faces? The fact that about half the population was angels, a species who on a whole hadn’t shown him any kindness since his Fall and most recently had been extremely brutal to him in ways he wouldn’t even share with Aziraphale?

“Crowley, I’m back.” He bent to give him a kiss on the forehead. 

The demon mumbled and shifted a bit under the weighted blanket. Aziraphale climbed into the bed with him, putting a hand on his back to let him know he was there. He’d spend a few hours here before the concert, which maybe he could convince Crowley to attend as well. Unfortunately, Aziraphale fell asleep before Crowley entered another round of terrible nightmares. The demon curled in a ball, whimpering in his sleep.

_Crowley lay wearing only enough to preserve modesty, tied wrist and ankle to the cold steel table while Celion held a knife over him. This time it was a regular knife rather than his special consecrated one he loved to torture demons with, but that held little comfort for Crowley. It was still sharp and Celion was still going to use it to cut some area of his skin to shreds. _

_He turned his head away, breathing heavily._

_“You wasted a lot of time getting lost like that. If you didn’t know the way, why didn’t you say something beforehand, you stupid snake?” Celion snarled at him. “You’re not worth training for this kind of work. I can’t get through to you.”_

_He raked the knife along Crowley’s ribs._

_“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! It won’t happen again!” Crowley’s world became more painful as he felt the blood trickle down his side._

_“You’re right it won’t. I’m going to punish you for that mistake. It caused serious delays in the government that the Council did not appreciate. What I do to you will make you remember that mistake forever. It’ll ruin you for a lot of slave work, but there will be tasks you’ll be able to do.”_

_Terror filled Crowley. Celion had never threatened him with permanent harm before. He pulled at his bonds begging the angel to give him one last chance. He’d do better this time. He promised. But the pleas did not appease Celion at all. _

_A second angel approached the table to hold Crowley’s head still, the demon still pleading to be spared whatever punishment they had in mind. Slowly and deliberately, Celion inserted his blade into Crowley’s eyes one at a time. Oddly enough he felt no pain but screamed anyway at the horror of it and the sensation of blood and fluid running down his cheeks and temples as his sight was taken from him. He would forever be reminded that they could take anything from him, even his senses if they so desired. _

_He had an eternity of blindness to remind him of that now. Not one ray of light reached his severely damaged eyes._

_“Maybe if you’re very good for me, I’ll think about healing them. I don’t know if it’ll return your sight, but we’ll find out.”_

_“Yes, master. I’ll do whatever you want me to.” Crowley hated himself for speaking such words._

_“That’s a good boy, 354-174.”_

_Behind the darkness of his sightless eyes he could feel Celion’s malicious smile._

Awaking with a start to a completely black room, Crowley frantically felt his slick cheeks and eyes themselves convinced that he was still in Heaven and Celion had just blinded him. 

“No. No. No. No . . .” he repeated over and over, hands patting over his face as he felt wetness leak down it. 

Something stirred beside him. A hand was on his shoulder, followed by a soft curly head that smelled of sweet mint-lavender shampoo; a gentle voice murmured in his ear. “Crowley? What’s wrong, love?”

“I can’t see. He blinded me with his knife. I didn’t do my tasks the way I was supposed to. He said he’d heal me up if I behaved.”

Aziraphale turned on the lights, keeping them low and gentle. “It was a dream. I’m looking at your lovely eyes right now and they’re just fine. Can you see me?”

“Yes. But I have blood on my face. I can feel it.”

“No, my dear, they’re only tears.” Aziraphale ran a finger over his cheek then showed him that it was nothing but salt water on the tip. “See? Is this just a dream or were you really blinded then healed back up?” He felt sick even having to ask that question.

“This is purely made-up stuff.” 

Crowley’s dreams sometimes involved torture that had really been performed on him.

“I think it’s time you started talking about what happened to you. You need to, my dear. I’m watching it eat away at you.”

Crowley’s shoulders sank. “I can’t. You don’t understand . . . I’m sorry. I know I promised I would but I can’t. Forgive me?”

“Oh, Crowley, my love . . . I can’t forgive you because you have no reason to apologize and nothing to be afraid or ashamed of. We’ll work on this,” replied Aziraphale gently. “Now, it would be good for you to get out of here for a while. We’ve been invited to a concert tonight and I think you should attend.”

“I can’t be around angels.”

“These aren’t our angels. They’re people who are like us. They didn’t want war, either. Can you give them a chance?” Aziraphale asked. “It’s outdoors and it’ll be chilly. You can take your blanket if it would help.”

“I’ll think about it. I don’t want to stay here, angel.” Crowley curled up around him, needing the close contact. “I can’t stay here. I belong on Earth.”

Aziraphale didn’t know how to answer that. If they went back to Earth, everything would end eventually and God would just restart Creation. What was the point of it all?

Crowley went to the concert only because Aziraphale wanted him to go. They sat on benches in the park, the stars above them, Crowley’s special blanket around his shoulders, listening to the foreign compositions of the Alpha Centauri orchestra. Crowley was even in good enough of a mood to talk to a few angels and demons afterwards. All in all it was a rather lovely evening. There was just one more thing Aziraphale was going to ask of Crowley and hopefully it didn’t ruin everything.

They said their goodnights to everyone and were strolling along the path of glowing rocks back towards the ship when Aziraphale took Crowley’s arm in his. 

“Would you like to spend the night at the house instead? Just you and me. Nobody coming over for any reason until we’re ready. I’ll put a “do not disturb” spell on the door if you need me to.” Aziraphale looked at him with big puppy dog eyes, pleading silently.

“All right! But I’m going back to the ship if I start to feel uncomfortable.”

Aziraphale began to realize how important familiar surroundings had become to Crowley. He began to understand he was feeling out of control again and how the ship and the bed there were items within his control. Familiar surroundings that were comforting, unlike this strange new world half full of beings who looked very similar to the ones who held him captive and tortured him. 

Aziraphale felt ashamed. Why didn’t he see this before? Crowley had spent months shoving it all to the back of his mind because they had a plan, a goal. He fixated on that goal to keep the trauma at bay. Aziraphale knew that much but reluctantly let things be in order to get out of Heaven. That proved stupid since it was quite obvious now that the dam had broken and Crowley was having a hard time handling the flow of negative emotions his brain was producing.

Now Aziraphale would have to help him learn to cope and reorient goals. He felt a twinge of guilt for canceling their plans to return to Earth, but he just couldn’t be the Almighty’s pawn anymore, easily replaceable if things went terribly wrong. Here they could forge a life of their own, free of obligations and the fear that failing would mean the destruction and yet another reboot of a world the Almighty was apparently determined to get right. Crowley could heal from his wounds here, Aziraphale just knew it. It was better than him going from Heaven’s slave to God’s pawn. He deserved more than that.

Back at the house, Aziraphale organized the pillows into an arrangement suitable for sleeping just like the inhabitants of this planet did. A Velcro-like substance on the sides of them ensured that they stayed together when fastened to one another. He pulled soft blankets out of a wardrobe in the corner where linens and clothing were stored. It was strange having a combination living room and bedroom, but they would get used to it. Most of life here was lived outside. It may have rained once or twice a week, but it was rare the showers lasted for more than an hour. 

“There,” he said to Crowley. “All nicely made up. And I made sure there were plenty of blankets and you have your one. Let’s get ready for bed.” He approached the demon and started to undress him. “Do you need your pyjamas?”

“No, I’ll make do with my boxers.” He tried to return the favour, starting to unbutton Aziraphale’s shirt, but the angel gently moved his hand away. 

“Let me pamper you.”

So Crowley was. He was gently undressed then tucked into the bed made of soft cushions, Aziraphale making sure he had his weighted blanket. Blinking sleepily up at him, Crowley watched as Aziraphale got himself ready for bed. The angel slid in next to him, draping an arm across his chest.

“How’s that? Are you ok?”

“’M fine, angel.”

They gave each other good night kisses and Aziraphale used a small miracle to turn off the lights. Holding Crowley close, he prayed tonight would be nightmare free. The worry was if it wasn’t, Crowley would shy away from spending the night here again. Aziraphale waited until Crowley was asleep before allowing himself that luxury.

_Crowley paced his cell as much as the manacles they had him in would allow with their chains attached to the wall. They had been fastened on tightly, slowly rubbing off the skin on his wrists, leaving behind sores that were bloody and starting to get infected. He hadn’t eaten in two days which was the last time he saw anyone. Forty-eight Earth hours of being left entirely alone, not that he knew this as he had no way of marking the passing of time; he just knew he had been left alone for quite a while without contact with anyone. Even making sardonic comments to the guards was something. The silence was getting to him. The last time they starved him, they kept checking in on him to add a few beatings to the mix._

_“So now what? I just sit here rotting away in these chains?” he muttered to himself. “They want me to go insane or something? What’s the point of that?”_

_Tired of pacing, he tried picking at the locks on the manacles only to get shocked by the spell they were imbued with that prevented prisoners from messing with them. The pain was something. It made him feel real, but he didn’t try it again in case a second punishment was nastier than a jolt of electricity running through his hands. _

_Pacing got harder over time as the lack of food got to him. Hunger was an odd feeling, as were its corresponding effects on his human body. He had never actually experienced hunger before; he was a spirit who, although was integrated with his body, did not require it to perform all its functions. Eating was for the sheer pleasure of it, not as a necessity. He felt like tasting food, so he partook of it. _

_Eventually he sat down on the bench, wrapping himself in his now-grimy blanket. Weakness was overcoming him. He pulled his bare legs up to his chest, laying his head on his knees. Eventually exhaustion and faintness led to him falling into a light sleep that he jolted awake from upon hearing a cell door somewhere open, hoping it was his. Maybe they’d allow him to run a few errands. He craved light and noise._

_They’d bring him clothes when they wanted him to do tasks and the guard would watch as he slipped on the tunic and leggings over the loincloth that was the only piece of clothing he was allowed to wear unless running errands. Celion had discovered unlike other demons, Crowley had spent enough time among humans to develop modesty. He used the mortification Crowley felt at being so exposed to attempt to break him down. So far it wasn’t working the way Celion wanted, but he wasn’t about to give in and allow him clothing. That would be allowing the demon a victory._

_Crowley wanted out, if only temporarily, even though he knew he’d have to humiliatingly peel off the clothing in front of his angel guards upon returning to his cell or face serious punishment. He paused his thoughts for a moment. Was he finally starting to break?_

_Time passed. A lot of time Crowley suspected, although he had no way of really telling for sure. He went from pacing, to sitting to mostly lying under his blanket sleeping on and off. Nobody came. The demon started to wonder if he would just eventually fall into a deep sleep from which it would be impossible to wake him. That actually started to sound appealing._

_Just as he was about to finally fall into that wanted stupor, his cell door opened, bringing him to full wakefulness. He sat up upon seeing the blond hair backlit by the lights in the hallway._

_“Aziraphale. . .”_

_“I’m sorry, my dear. I’m so very sorry,” said the angel while kneeling to caress his red hair. _

_Then he stood up, pulled out his flaming sword and swung it._

Crowley awoke with a start, bolting upright with a cry. That dream was made of very real events up to the point Aziraphale made his appearance in it. Shivering violently at the memories of being abandoned there to starve until he was more agreeable to training, he lay back down pulling his weighted blanket up around him. Aziraphale stirred, shifting himself closer to Crowley.

“Another dream?” he murmured.

“I was being starved in my cell then you showed up and stabbed me with a flaming sword,” replied Crowley. “All in all, not a particularly bad one.”

“Come here,” said Aziraphale, indicating Crowley should rest his head on his chest. “Let’s talk about it.”

“I don’t like that you just unilaterally decided to stay here. I’ll spend the rest of my existence reconciling my trauma with living among angels,” Crowley said. “I can’t stay here among people who look like those who tortured me.”

“But they didn’t, my dear. And they want very much to just welcome you into their community. You can’t judge them for having powers and feathered wings,” pleaded Aziraphale.

“And you can’t expect me to live among people who trigger the worst memories I’ve ever had,” Crowley snapped. 

He gathered up his blanket and stood. Aziraphale sat up, his hand trailing off of Crowley as the demon stalked towards the front door.

“Crowley, where are you going?” he asked, concerned.

“Back to the ship.” He left, slamming the door behind him.

Aziraphale looked helplessly at the door before lying back down on the verge of crying. How was he going to convince Crowley staying was their best option? He curled up in the blankets, letting the tears flow before sleep finally came to him once again.

Crowley fled back to the familiarity of the ship wishing he could make Aziraphale see, understand. Now what? He started to head for the bedroom when he stopped short.

_Crowley?_

“What?” He turned towards the cabinet where the jar with the fly in it was stored.

_Another fight?_

“Why do you care?”

_Because everyone’s future rests on you two idiots getting it together. I suggest you talk to him. Lay all your cards on the table. If you wait too long, that scar’s going to start fading because his decision not to leave will be permanent. The future will change. Understand?_

“Yes. Fine. I’ll do it. Now get the fuck out of my head. I’d like to get some sleep that’s not plagued by nightmares.” The bedroom door slammed shut.

~*~*~

Aziraphale was up early the next morning to go to Crowley. He stood before the bedroom, knocking, but Crowley was not answering. 

“Please, my dear?” he pleaded. “I’m sorry. Please open up so we can talk.”

_You sure fucked thizz one up._

Aziraphale looked around, turning almost in a complete circle. “Excuse me? Who’s in here?”

_Thizz izz Beelzebub. I have a fly on board I’m linked to. _

“Oh. Yes. Crowley did briefly mention that. I didn’t know you could communicate with me through the link.”

_Why wouldn’t I be able to? We’re of the same stock._ They sounded annoyed at his holier-than-thou assumption. _You do realizze that all of Earth, Heaven and Hell are depending on you two to make thizz right. It izz not your place to stay on some alien world. Now go talk to him. Let him tell you what he’zz been through. Before the Exile, we liberated a few demonzz who were prisonerzz of war. I know what angelzz are capable of. Maybe it’ll convince you he can’t stay here even if you lack the empathy to give a damn what happenzz to twenty million supernatural beingzz and billionzz of humanzz._

He felt them cut the link and he was alone in the ship with one demon who would not talk to him. Throwing a shield around the cabinet with the jar in it, he turned his attention back to Crowley.

“I’ve just had your former boss in my head and I never want that to happen again. Can we please talk now?”

The door opened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Opening quote -- _ Yesterday_, The Beatles


	18. Memories of Captivity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley breaks his silence on what exactly happened to him before Gabriel gifted him to Aziraphale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big old CONTENT WARNING. Lots of torture described. If you don’t want to read it, you can just skip to the very end of the chapter where the italics end and read that part. That’s the important plot point. The rest is just description.

_When they torture me, they show they're weak._   
_When I survive, I show them I'm stronger._

_Crowley was so exhausted after the long parade where he was walked in chains behind a horse through the streets of Heaven’s capital while angels lined up cheering to see the defeated Serpent. He collapsed to bloodied knees ripped to shreds by being dragged by that animal every time he tripped and fell, an occurrence that happened more and more the longer the parade went on, draining his energy and will to keep himself upright. He quickly shifted to sit on the sides of his legs, arm out beside him to keep him upright._

_Until, this is, one of his captors decided to yank on one of the chains still attached to the cuffs he wore, pulling his arm out from under him. With a cry he tumbled to the cobblestones beneath him, slicing open the side of his jaw. As he tried to get himself vertical, he heard the laughter._

_“Fuck you!”_

_The laughter stopped and he found a light-brown-haired angel nose to nose with him. “What did you say?”_

_“You heard me,” Crowley said either rather bravely or rather stupidly._

_A kick to the stomach left him twisting in pain on the street in front of what they called the training center. He figured it was a fancy name for prison. As they dragged him inside, still hurting from the blow to his abdomen, he found out he was correct._

_“Put him in Cell Six.”_

_He was unceremoniously shoved through a door into a concrete cell of nothing but light grey. At least this time they took the tight power-nullifying shackles off of him, but not before they collared him with a ring of metal etched with three runes to quash his powers just like the cuffs had. Three runes in a certain order. That’s all it took to rob a supernatural being of their powers. _

_They left him there after that, closing the thick door behind them. It had a small barred window on it but that was his only view on the world outside his cell. He took a look around that while rubbing his wrists and ignoring the pain in his stomach and knees. He could pace it in five short strides and it contained no furniture but a hard concrete bench he could sit or lie on. That was covered with a thin cushion with a rough folded blanket on one end. There was nothing else but rings on the wall whose purpose he knew thanks to the education he received observing the Spanish Inquisition. _

_With nothing else to do in this eerily quiet prison, he lay down on the bench and eventually fell asleep._

_When he awoke, he sat up to think for a bit. He was not going allow them the opportunity to torture him for all eternity. Taking inventory of everything on him, he noticed he still had his belt. He pulled it off, contemplating it for a moment. Could he strangle himself with it even though he was a creature that didn’t require breath? Discorporate? Whenever he did discorporate he’d immediately get sucked into Hell. But Hell was now inaccessible so would he? Really, roaming the remains of a shattered Earth would be preferable to an eternity here in Heaven. Maybe he could find out what happened to Aziraphale, save him if he was still alive and they could go off together like he had suggested several days ago at the bandstand meeting where everything started to go horribly wrong._

_He looped the belt around his hand contemplating his choices. Should he put it around his neck and escape here to maybe face a worse fate if it was even possible? He wasn’t suicidal by nature, if you could call purposely discorporating yourself that. Even considering it gave him pause. What if there was a chance he could escape by other means? He slid it off his hand, opening the loop large enough to slip over his head._

_He stared at it wondering if this was pointless._

_“Hey! What are you doing?” a burly angel demanded through the window. He unlocked the door and was immediately in the cell grabbing the belt from Crowley, hitting him with it hard across the side of his face that was already cut. “Fucking snake. You’re not going to escape us.”_

_Crowley retreated with a cry, barely noticing the appearance of a finely dressed tall angel with dark brown hair done in a style that said he cared about such things as status and vanity. The angel looked down on him with a sneer, eying him like he was the filthiest creature he had ever set eyes on. _

_“Take his clothes. We can’t have him trying to suicide,” he said to the burly angel. He took Crowley’s chin in his hand, his fingers stinging on the cut along his jawline. “Hello, Crowley. Or shall I call you 354-174 as that’s your new designation. I’m Celion and I run this place. I plan on personally overseeing your training. Well, if that’s your fate. It’s still being decided if it would be better to break the Serpent of Eden and turn you into a slave or just outright execute you to keep morale up.”_

_Crowley just steadily glared at this arrogant angel, not letting the words get to him. It was harder not to react to their cruel laughter when he was stripped of every garment he wore and left with just a scrap of fabric enough to cover the smallest portion of his modesty. He wrapped his wings around himself but that still left places exposed. Humiliation burned in every cell of his body as they mocked his attempts to cover a decent amount of his unclothed body._

_He openly sneered at them._

_“Better be careful there, 354-174,” Celion said. “You have a blanket to cover up with, but only if you behave. I can take whatever I want from you.”_

_“Get out of my cell, you prat. By the way, I love the hair, but it still doesn’t hide your nasty personality.” He just couldn’t help himself._

_Steel grey eyes growing dark with anger, Celion approached him slowly to grab a handful of his hair, a ball gag dangling before the demon’s face. Crowley sucked in a breath as warmth hit his cheek. An uncomfortable kind of warmth he’d rather was not within a thousand miles of him. Squirming under Celion’s hold, he tried to get his face as far away from that gag as possible._

_“You feel it don’t you?” the angel said softly. “You know it’s consecrated. Imagine that in your mouth burning away until I decide to take it off of you.” He vanished the gag. “You’d better learn to keep quiet if you don’t want to find out what holy burns on your tongue feel like. Chain his wings back. Let him understand how important that blanket is.”_

_He let go of Crowley, leaving the cell with his burly companion who returned with help in the form of another brawny angel, this one carrying a whip of holy flame. Crowley recoiled in fear, not wanting the consecrated fire to touch him. With the threat of wounds from that, it was easy for the two angels to slip chains over his wings, pinning them together in the folded position so he could not stretch them out again to use like a feathered cloak. While they were there, they vanished his primaries, rendering him unable to fly. _

_Feeling utterly degraded, Crowley slunk to the bench where he covered his nearly naked body with the blanket. Little did he know this was only the beginning._

~*~*~  
  


_He did not know how much time had passed since they chained his wrists to a hook in the ceiling leaving him balancing on the balls of his bare feet. Time didn’t seem to exist here. Day and night had no meaning when you had no view of outside. Sometimes he was allowed eight hours to sleep, sometimes they’d wake him up after two or three and keep him awake until passing out was the only option. He had no idea how long he had actually been in captivity._

_Sometimes he could take himself out of reality by thinking of Aziraphale and the wonderful times they had together before everything shattered. He wondered what became of his angel, believing that they had figured out his plan since he fled Heaven instead of lining up for war. That they found and prevented him from getting to a body. He wondered if his angel was okay or was suffering a similar fate to his. He hoped that if they decided he was a traitor, they had just executed him. It was easier to think of him beyond suffering than enduring this day after day. He wished he could join him._

_Crowley couldn’t feel his arms anymore and the pain from his ribs being stretched beyond what they should have been shot through his sides, radiating through his back. He tried shifting only to make himself whimper in pain. There was no way to alleviate that until Celion came to finally let him down again._

_He waited what seemed like hours until the balls of his feet were sore and every stretched centimetre of him screamed with agony. Tears dripped down off his cheeks on to the floor below, sometimes wetting his bare chest. Pleasant thoughts of his angel had fled from his mind long ago as the pain became too unbearable to ignore, growing until it was all he could think about._

_“Hello there, slave.”_

_Crowley really couldn’t help himself. There was something inside of him that wanted to show Celion he could never break him. “Nice of you to join me.”_

_He received a stinging slap that knocked him off balance, increasing his pain. He cried out._

_“Shall we try that again?” asked Celion. “Hello there, slave.”_

_“Go fuck yourself.”_

_A knife was immediately in his line of sight. Gold-plated, it had a red jewel embedded in the hilt. He hadn’t known Celion for long, but Crowley knew the angel was ostentatious. The knife fit his personality perfectly. It was brought closer to his face to show it was consecrated just like the ball gag when he was first captured. He sucked in a breath fearfully._

_“Good. Maybe you’re learning. But you need a few more lessons.” Celion ran the knife down his bare side slicing skin open and burning it at the same time. _

_Crowley tried to twist away, screaming in agony. _

_“Oh? You want me to run this along your wings? You keep turning them towards me. You know how to stop this.”_

_And the trapped demon felt the blade slice through feather and skin leaving him in anguish as he felt the pain from the burns spread across his tortured nerves. They would leave his skin blackened and weeping ooze. But his angel captor always healed burns from consecrated items if only because he wasn’t interested in Crowley developing a serious infection. They had lost several demons that way. Even those punished with holy fire whips had their wounds spelled so they wouldn’t become infected. The idea was torturous punishment, not eventual death._

_Crowley bit his own tongue, refusing to beg Celion to stop. He endured the knife as it cut through him, first shallowly then much deeper into the layers of muscle, the burn of the blessed weapon shooting through his body. A couple of whimpers escaped his lips, but his tormentor didn’t get another real scream until he literally took a thin piece of skin off, cutting it free of the demon as casually as one would slice bread. Crowley was left with a blackened gap in his side, the wound cauterized by the consecrated knife._

_“No . . . please . . . just stop.”_

_“You know what you need to say.” Celion dangled the small strip of skin in front of Crowley. _

_The demon would not say it, so the torture continued until he could barely speak from the screaming. His entire body was covered with cuts surrounded by burn wounds and in two places, small sections of skin had been removed. He sagged in his bonds no longer able to hold himself upright. The chains holding him were taking all his weight now, his wrists in agony. His breaths came shallow and quick as he wished for death to just take him._

_“Please . . . stop . . .” Crowley’s eyes remained down as he whispered the words. He was so spent he did not dare to make eye contact with Celion and endure another round of punishment for such an insolent action. The next word to come out of his mouth left a bad taste in it. “. . . sir.”_

_Celion smiled to hear the demon give such a submissive response. He was well aware Crowley was far from being broken, but this was a good start. With a wave the chains disappeared, the demon falling to the hard concrete floor of his cell with a cry. He stayed there crumpled in a pile of split skin, blood and burns while Celion healed the scorched skin, leaving the cuts to close on their own the slow way. _

_“You are filth and you don’t deserve the mercy I have shown you. You should be grateful I released you from that chain. What do you say, slave?”_

_“Thank you.”_

_Celion kicked him hard. “What was that? Are you telling me you want me to take your blanket? The only piece of cloth you have to wrap around your worthless body?”_

_Crowley sobbed in pain. “Thank you, sir.”_

_Celion eventually wanted “master” out of him as owners overwhelmingly preferred to be addressed by “master” or “mistress”, but “sir” would do for now. Pleased, the angel left the cell. _

~*~*~

_Crowley’s blanket was gone, taken before this session with Celion began. His wings were once again pinned so he could not use them as a cloak. His captor stood before him a crop in his hand, bouncing it off his opposite palm. Crowley sat defiantly on the concrete bench that served as his bed, yellow snake eyes staring at him unblinkingly._

_“Still a bold one aren’t you?” Celion asked. “Didn’t they cut your rations five days ago? So, how hungry are you?”_

_Crowley saw flashes of dining at the Ritz with Aziraphale. He focused on the angel’s sky blue eyes looking at him with a gaze filled with love. “I’m fine.”_

_“You do need a proper amount of calories to heal. I doubt you’re getting that. It’s too bad you don’t cooperate with me,” replied Celion. “I’d fix those ribs for you. I know that half-healed break in your arm is still bothering you, too.”_

_The demon subconsciously rubbed a hand along the opposite forearm. Celion had broken that one session several weeks ago when Crowley had failed to kneel during a lesson on manners for slaves. Instead the demon had run his mouth about how he wasn’t going to kneel for angels in some corner awaiting orders. Celion had hit him hard with a baton not unlike the one formerly used by human police, a slight crunching noise indicating he had cracked bone._

_Then came the consecrated gag that was locked on for hours while Crowley screamed himself hoarse as he tried to claw it off, leaving his face bloody. The burns still covered his tongue and the roof of his mouth, and the scratches his nails left in his own cheeks were still present in the form of fresh scars. The only healing he received had been a miracle to prevent the burns from becoming infected. They were meant to teach a harsh lesson about his insolent comments._

_It didn’t quite work. Crowley could be very cunning but he could also be very impulsive. The impulsive side unfortunately seemed to be stuck in charge right now and it was getting him into trouble._

_“C’mon. Kneel before me like a good slave and I’ll give you your clothes back,” Celion said in almost indulgent tones, still swinging the crop. “How long has it been now? I think at least a couple of months now. You’re an odd one. Most demons wouldn’t care. Clothes are just something you happen to wear to blend in and some have turned them into a way to express their identity. Nothing more. You, oh, you’re different. You spent way too much time among humans and developed modesty. Being this uncovered in front of others is uncomfortable, isn’t it? Humiliating.” _

_Crowley looked away as if he wasn’t remotely interested in such things as clothes. Celion felt a surge of anger. How dare he? The angel, who was bigger and bulkier than Crowley, dragged him off the bench, throwing him on the hard cement in front of him to slap him with the crop. It knocked the wind out of the demon._

_“I could take that scrap of a loincloth from you, you know,” Celion snarled at him, looking down at Crowley as he writhed on the cement in pain, trying to catch his breath. _

_He had landed right on his injured ribs and swore they had cracked again. Pain shot up his side every time he took a breath. Carefully he tried to sit up, but was grabbed by the collar and again flung down. He groaned as he hit the floor once more._

_“That fucking hurts you know. I’d think you’d treat your property better if you’re looking for servants,” he finally spat out. “There’s only a limited number of demons these days.” He was involuntarily clutching the loincloth now, uselessly protecting it from his tormentor._

_Celion noticed, giving Crowley a bad feeling. He removed his hands. _

_“You want clothing?” asked Celion in that voice which told Crowley he had once again crossed a line. “Then you shall have it.”_

_He snapped his fingers and bands of fabric wrapped themselves around Crowley, covering him from shoulder to mid-thigh like a tight tunic. Then he started making the hand motions Crowley recognized as those for blessing objects. Suddenly terrified, Crowley frantically backed himself into a corner scrambling as far away from Celion as he could get. His hand flew out, futilely warding off what he knew was coming._

_“No,” he begged in a panicked voice. “No! Please, sir! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean that . . . It just came out! Please, sir. No!” The last “no” turned into a scream as Celion completed the blessing on the cloth wrapped around Crowley._

_His entire torso burned with pain that was excruciating. He desperately clawed at the fabric, his fingers frantically trying remove it, spreading the burns to his hands. Celion smiled cruelly as he listened to the screams, enjoying watching the demon madly try to remove that which was burning the skin off his body. He’d be a raw weeping mess by the time he managed to scrape every last scrap of cloth off of himself. _

_“I have other business to attend to, so I must leave you. If I come back and find the clothing on the floor, I’ll assume you enjoy being naked.” _

_An hour later he returned to find ripped cloth scattered in shreds around the cell with Crowley curled up in the fetal position as far away from it as he could get. In his frantic bid to rid himself of the burning caused by the holy tunic, the demon had torn away even the loincloth. He was a mess; his skin red, raw and weeping thick rivulets of plasma. Also, he seemed to have partially drifted into a comatose state – eyes wide open but unseeing, breathing deeper than usual, not a muscle moving._

_Setting a hand to his temple, Celion read Crowley’s injuries. He was still conscious, but in severe agony from the burns. Satisfied the pain would finally teach him his place, Celion left him like that, cognizant and suffering so much his world had shrunk to the incredible pains that wracked his body. He could safely spend the night like that, but he’d have to be healed in the morning. _

_The door to cell opened several hours later._

_“Good morning, sunshine.”_

_Crowley heard Celion’s voice but did not respond. A cry was ripped from his throat as the excruciating pain hit a crescendo then disappeared thanks to his captor’s healing powers. Tears ran down Crowley’s cheeks while he choked back sobs. He refused to look at Celion._

_“Not even a thank you for healing you? Come kneel by me and tell me how much you appreciate being healed.”_

_Crowley just lay there. _

_“I’m sorry I had to do that to you, but you need to learn your place. You are a demon. The lowest being in the universe. So low even the Almighty has judged you unforgivable. A creature fit only to serve members of the holy Host. You know you brought it on yourself. If you would do as you’re told, I wouldn’t have to hurt you. C’mon now. Last chance.” Celion conjured up another loincloth to dangle in front of him. “I know how badly you need this at least.”_

_Slowly the demon sat up. Then he stood, still looking only at the floor. He stumbled over, tired, starving, suffering psychologically from the pain and physically from the shock of the severe burns. Carefully he got down on his knees, hands on his thighs like he was taught, eyes staring at Celion’s feet. _

_“That’s a good slave,” Celion smiled down at him, suddenly fascinated by this submissive version of the Serpent. “Now what do you say to me for healing you?”_

_Crowley shivered, his right check muscles twitching like they always did when he was fighting the impulse to tell Celion to go fuck himself. “Thank you, master.”_

_“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Celion briefly patted his head like he was a dog before dropping the loincloth in front of him. “I think as a reward, we’ll skip training this morning. I’ll see you this afternoon.”_

_As soon as his footsteps died away down the hallway, Crowley collapsed into a miserable pile right there on the floor without even putting on the scrap of clothing he was allowed, weeping until sleep took him. _

~*~*~

_The rough long tunic and legging-like trousers Crowley was eventually given made his legs itch and the coarse fabric caught on scabs and half-healed scars adding to his misery. He tried to hold still because if he didn’t, Celion would smack one of his injured wings with his crop, sending pain through shattered wing bones. _

_“Are you paying any attention to me? Or are you telling me we need another week of starvation and beatings?” Celion snapped. “I’m doing you a huge favour here allowing you to start running errands with your fellow demons. Sticking my neck out with Gabriel, so you do need to behave or you’ll regret what I’ll do to you.”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

_“What was that?”_

_Crowley whimpered as the crop smacked his delicate wing, the force of the hit vibrating through broken bones. “Yes, master.”_

_Another angel approached with a female-presenting demon dressed in the same dark grey clothing as Crowley was. She stood before the angels, looking down as “appropriate” for a demon. Crowley was not even acknowledged. _

_“Now 152-491, 354-174 is going to shadow you. You do your errands like you’re supposed to and pretend he’s not there. You two are not to speak to one another or there will be punishment. The collars are spelled now to pick up on that. We’ll know if you do, understand?” instructed Celion._

_“Yes, master,” she said in reply._

_She was given a folder and instructions on whom to take it to. Crowley was to follow her to start learning his way around Empyrean. He followed her out, noticing that she completely ignored him as if she didn’t have anyone tagging along on her errands. Crowley suspected she had been properly “trained.” Broken beyond repair. He felt sick._

_They didn’t get too far before he started collecting nasty looks from angels. Then some bumped into him, or shoved him, or stepped on his foot. “Accidents” that could be brushed off. Accidents that escalated the further away from the training center they travelled. He found himself being checked into building walls or tripped as he tried to keep up with his guide._

_Crowley shuddered as he was roughly pushed to the ground by a hostile angel not afraid to blatantly show his contempt to him. Terrified by the angry look on the face of the angel who stood above him, he held up a hand in pleading as the angel punched him hard, instant bruising rising on his well-defined cheek._

_“You should have been executed, snake,” the angel said to him before the beating began. _

_It was so brutal Crowley soon lost consciousness. He awoke in his cell several days after being dumped there following the attack. He was left for a week longer without food, water or visits from Celion. Eventually he stopped occasionally sitting up or walking around the cell and just lay under his blanket sleeping on and off. _

_The week of isolation and starvation ended when Gabriel entered the cell with Celion looking to gift him to Aziraphale. He was so weak he could barely walk the distance to his new owner’s home, wearing the dirty torn tunic and leggings he had been beaten in. By the time they threw him on the floor of the library, he wished death was still an option. Keeping his head bowed, he dared to look up covertly through the overgrown hair that flopped in his eyes._

_What he saw was his angel looking back at him, shock in his sky blue eyes._

_“Crowley?”_

~*~*~

Aziraphale sat there on the bed with him at a loss of what to say about all Crowley revealed. Instead he simply drew him into a hug, crying on his shoulder while Crowley cried on his. He really wished the demon had been able to talk about this earlier for it would have influenced his decision to stay here. Now he saw they couldn’t. He had the opportunity to help Crowley get rid of these memories and here he was selfishly saying they shouldn’t give Earth a second chance because he lost faith.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he whispered. “I’m so very sorry. We’re going back to Earth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning Quote -- _Everyone Sees the Ants_, A.S. King


	19. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You’re looking for the escaped ones, aren’t you? Crowley and Aziraphale. I remember you coming around before.”_
> 
> _“Well, they do have to be here on Earth. There is no where else for them to go. And since we’ve searched the Earth over many times in the last year, they must be in the protected area.”_
> 
> _“No, they aren’t.”_
> 
> _“You lie.”_
> 
> _Leach shrugged, stirring the dirt around with his stick. “Ok. Then I won’t tell you Adam sent them off to Alpha Centauri. Goodbye.” He started to leave._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning still applies here. There’s torture in this chapter in the seventh section. I've bolded the little design I use between sections. Don't read the content when you come to that if violence makes you uncomfortable.

_Never was and never will be_   
_You don't know how you've betrayed me_   
_And somehow you've got everybody fooled_

Aziraphale sat outside at a table beneath tree branches woven together to form a kind of living umbrella. He was sipping a hot drink made the leaves of one of the plants cultivated here. It was steeped like tea, but tasted like cinnamon. Taking a mouthful, he realized how much he did miss a good cuppa. Across from him sat Dai and Nattiel. Dai had made some kind of bun which he had brought along. They were waiting for them to cool enough to handle before slathering them in the Alpha Centaruians’ vegetable-based version of butter and eating them.

“No Crowley today?” Dai asked.

“No. He had a bad night last night and is sleeping in,” said Aziraphale. “He simply can’t handle it here.”

Nattiel patted his hand in sympathy. “We understand. There were many who suffered who escaped with us. We do have mind healers who are skilled in the area of psychological trauma. I could put him in touch with one.”

“There’s little point in him thinking about Earth. It’s lost and he’d be better off to start the healing process. Life here is something you two can adjust to and I’d like to say it’s really not that bad once you do adjust to being in a different place,” added Dai. “He just needs time.”

Aziraphale just nodded with a smile. They had decided last night it would be best to keep their plans to themselves. It was obvious that while the inhabitants here were nice enough, they wouldn’t understand Crowley’s need to get back to Earth. To make things status quo once again for his own sanity.

Really, he shared that need, too, Aziraphale realized. Neither of them truly belonged here. The society here was built on the inhabitants’ experiences and former civilization. It was completely foreign to Crowley and Aziraphale who had grown with and become like a species that barely existed anymore. They were as different from these supernatural beings as they were from the ones they had left behind. 

“I’ll be sure to bring up the mind healer with him.” Aziraphale actually did plan to as maybe it would be beneficial to start helping Crowley work through this, just in case. There was no guarantee that they could fix Earth, just the hope that their past selves would understand and act to correct the timeline.

He moved the subject beyond Crowley, the three of them had a wonderful conversation followed by a walk in the nearby woods then Aziraphale went with Nattiel to learn to cook using the local root vegetables. It was all very interesting, but he was beginning to worry about Crowley who had yet to show up. Had he fallen into another downward spiral? They had planned on meeting for lunch, allowing Crowley some extra time for sleep. Aziraphale was torn about what to do, but finally decided that Crowley was probably still asleep. He would have come anyway to let Aziraphale know what was going on before retreating to the house where the angel could work on calming him down.

After lunching upon the roots they had prepared in several different ways, Aziraphale excused himself. “I really need to get back to Crowley. He’s sleeping awfully late even for him. Thank you so much for the cooking lesson and lunch.”

The couple waved goodbye to him as he headed down the path out of town to where the ship sat, situated so it could be easily accessed by them. Climbing in the door he started towards the bedroom

“Are you awake, Crowley?”

“Hello, Aziraphale.”

The angel froze.

~*~*~

Leach stood looking sourly off in the distance into the wrecked Earth that existed outside the protective bubble. Andreus was no longer with him, having chosen to accompany God back to Her dimension of exile as a companion for Her and the one final angel She had created soon after She exiled Herself. Leach only saw the invitation as an opportunity to once again be someone’s servant. He was fine on Earth. Here, he was free. 

The more he thought about it, the more he didn’t want the world to be reset. He poked the stick he held at the ground, scattering the leaf litter as he stood guard. He and all the Them were watching at posts. Adam had had a feeling that they were going to receive angelic visitors in the next couple of days.

Walking along his area to guard, he came upon a finely dressed angel with dark brown hair accompanied by two others dressed as if they were law enforcement. 

“So there is where our fugitive demons went off to,” the dark-haired angel said. “Is the Antichrist here? We would like to speak to him.”

“Where else is he going to be?” replied Leach scornfully.

“I don’t know but go get him. I don’t have time to argue with demons,” the angel replied.

“You’re looking for the escaped ones, aren’t you? Crowley and Aziraphale. I remember you coming around before.”

“Well, they do have to be here on Earth. There is no where else for them to go. And since we’ve searched the Earth over many times in the last year, they must be in the protected area.”

“No, they aren’t.”

“You lie.”

Leach shrugged, stirring the dirt around with his stick. “Ok. Then I won’t tell you Adam sent them off to Alpha Centauri. Goodbye.” He started to leave.

“Wait! You’re not kidding are you?” the angel asked.

“No. I don’t think he ever took the traces off of them he put on to get them here to Tadfield. Don’t know if you can access them this far but that’s not my problem. They should be there by now on one of the habitable planets if those exist.” The demon started to walk off.

“One more question . . . why betray them?”

“Because I like my life here in Tadfield. I’m not at Hell’s beck and call nor am I Heaven’s slave. Works for me. They’re on a mission to reset the Earth. Turn back time or something. I don’t know; it’s not like they talked about it much in front of me. I personally don’t want to go back to Hell if they change the timeline.” Leach snapped his fingers and disappeared.

Celion all but rejoiced right there on the spot. If he could access the traces Adam put on Aziraphale and Crowley, he could get back his slaves he had coveted and searched for all this time. Nodding to his two companions, they headed back to Empyrean, which Celion had managed to hold on to so far.

He actually hadn’t been down here this time looking for Crowley and Aziraphale. Instead he was going to see if he could have a bit of North America to settle in with his loyal followers. But if that demon wanted to give him some information to look into, he’d be more than happy to go see what his two escaped slaves were up to. Heaven was its own dimension. Finding them on Alpha Centauri and transporting there would be no different than transporting down to Earth. No distance truly existed between different dimensions. He could easily appear wherever he wanted.

Footsteps approached as the three of them disappeared and the Them came to a halt before the border, Adam nearly saying a curse word as he watched them go.

“The Almighty was right. Leach did betray them.” He paced in a circle, his hands at his head as he thought. "Ok . . . ok . . . I can do this. She showed me how to access my powers better . . . “

His face contorted and with a loud burst of energy, Beelzebub and Gabriel both appeared before him looking surprised. Adam grinned as he saw them, punching the air in victory.

“You did it!” said Pepper.

“What the . . .” said Beelzebub, laying their eyes on Gabriel who was trying to look blasé about the whole arrangement, but he failed in the end as he noticed Adam.

“Young man, I was in the middle of something,” said Gabriel angrily, even though he was rather glad to see Beelzebub.

“Guys, we have a problem and I need your help,” said Adam before Gabriel had a chance to work up a really good lecture. “I really need you to listen and do exactly what I tell you to or Heaven and Hell are going to end, too.”

He began to fill them in on the situation.

~*~*~

Celion sat in his office, concentrating on the makeshift scrying mirror in front of him. Adam had neglected to take the traces off the pair and he was clearly looking at Crowley sleeping in some kind of really modern-looking building. Switching his thoughts to Aziraphale, he found the angel talking with natives of the planet, who looked like winged humanoids, as they walked through a forest. He smiled. 

“Let’s ruin your plans once and for all.”

~*~*~

Gabriel transported them directly into the makeshift office in his house where he was running the resistance that at first seemed successful against Celion before things started to falter. But they were still in the game, which was what mattered. 

Beelzebub had cornered him against window, luckily with its blinds shut, feeling him all over, reaching up to his mouth for urgent kisses. He kissed them back just as urgently before coming to his senses.

“This really has to wait, Bee. We have to chase down Celion before he finds those two.”

Giant fly wings fluttering, Beelzebub reluctantly backed off. 

First he made an important call. “Michael. I have an vital errand to run on Earth, so I need you to be in charge until I get back . . . No, I’m not sure how long it’s going to take . . . I can’t divulge that information yet but I will fill you in when I return, ok? . . . Good luck.” He hung up and took Beelzebub’s hand. “Ready?”

“Yezz,” they replied. “Let’zz do thizz.”

They concentrated on their fly while Gabriel concentrated on the traces on Aziraphale and Crowley. The two of them disappeared. 

~*~*~

Crowley went from being asleep to being attacked. Caught completely off guard he felt the heavy body on top of him as he tried to punch his way out, forgetting he had use of his powers again. His head hit the bedside table, momentarily disorienting him. He felt the cold steel and heard the snap that proceeded his powers going completely dormant. Vertigo gone, his eyes snapped open as his hands came up to the collar around his neck again.

“I . . . will . . . not . . . ahh!”

Pain shot through him in response to him touching it, trying to pry it off. He fell whimpering to the floor as the both the shock and the concussion he sustained made him pass out, a large figure looming over him as his eyes fluttered closed. He swore he heard Celion’s laugh.

Impossible. . .

Coming to as he was roughly dragged to his feet, he felt the consecrated knife close to his throat once again. Crowley swallowed hard as he cracked his eyes open.

“So, what are you two up to?” Celion asked Aziraphale who stood there, eyes wide open with panic. “A little bird I found out was named Leach told me you’re trying to reset the world. He’s not happy about it because it means going back to Hell when you create a new timeline.”

“Fucking traitor,” gasped out Crowley, despite the consecrated knife next to his throat.

Celion touched it to his skin, leaving a mild burn that caused Crowley to cry out. “I’d stay quiet if I were you, serpent. Aziraphale, you’d be amazed how much damage I can do with this thing. Do they have death here? Is it permanent? Or would I just cause your boyfriend to discorporate and stay a spirit for all eternity? I don’t think you want to find out.” He pulled another collar out of thin air, sliding it across the floor to the other angel. “Put it on or we’re going to find out what will happen to Crowley if I cut his throat wide open.”

“All right,” said Aziraphale, hands in the air as he walked the two steps over to the metal collar. “Just be careful with that knife. I will do what you ask.” He closed it around his neck, feeling his powers mute to the point he couldn’t use them. “There. We’re both powerless. You can let Crowley go now.”

_Crowley? I know you can’t respond, but I’m hooking into your senses with the fly. Show me your scar._

Crowley did what Beelzebub asked and covertly stole a glance at his hand. The mark was starting to fade. He sucked in a quiet breath.

_Where’s the spell book, Crowley? Look at the title._

He stared directly at the book, making sure to read the title. It disappeared with a slight pop.

_We’ll take care of it then we’ll come get you. Gabriel’s here with me. The boy sent us. For Satan’s sake, I can’t believe I'm doing this._

One last pop and he felt the fly by his ear. Trying not to squirm as it crawled off his skin on to the black t-shirt he wore, he stood there with that consecrated knife still near his throat resisting the urge to put as much distance between him and it as possible.

_He shouldn’t be able to transport out thanks to the boy, but just in case . . ._

“We’re heading back to Heaven where you two can’t cause any more trouble. I won’t punish you since you were tricked into all this by the Antichrist but this ends now. Understand?” Celion beckoned Aziraphale over. “Come here. We’re leaving.”

Having no other choice since Celion was still pointing a dangerous weapon at his partner, Aziraphale did what he asked. 

Celion snapped his fingers.

Nothing happened except the fly buzzed back to safety so Beelzebub could keep an eye on the situation.

~*~*~

Beelzebub turned to Gabriel. “I got the book. Let’zz do this quickly, the scar’zz starting to fade.”

“Ok, give it here.” He reached for the tome they were holding. They gave him a sharp look, yanking it away.

“I don’t think so. I’ll be doing the spell. Get comfortable.” They conjured up a blanket on the forest floor for Gabriel to sit on. “You know Azziraphale’s house, I don’t. You’ll know where to find Crowley.”

“All right. You win this one, but I’d better come out of this in one piece.” He arranged the blanket and lay down on it, prepared to send his spirit off to Heaven to retrace a scar on the palm of a demon he really didn’t like. “Get it over with. Take me back to . . .” He thought about it a moment then rattled off a date and time in Enochian. “I believe that will work. It’s a few days or so after I know that Aziraphale healed him.”

Beelzebub recited the spell without the hint of a buzz. One could never be too careful with incantations, yet they made a mistake despite the precautions, sending Gabriel to a time about a month and a half after Crowley was first gifted to Aziraphale. It was good enough as Gabriel had not landed in a time where Crowley was still in the cells.

Ending up in the flat’s lounge, the first thing he noticed was the glowing rope-like structure leading back up to his body. Good. He had a way back. Now to get to business. He looked around the empty room before slipping unseen into the kitchen where Crowley sat at the table with his back to the door, a book open before him as he took some notes. Carefully Gabriel entered the room staying always behind the demon, then when Crowley raised his hand to chew on his pen, Gabriel concentrated on his palm until Crowley shook his hand then looked at it.

He watched him trace over the scar that he could see had returned from his vantage point. Satisfied, he chanted the counter-spell, sending his spirit flying back into it. Sitting up back in the forest on a blanket with a demon looking on, he shook off the feeling of nausea he was experiencing, panting slightly for reasons that puzzled him. He didn’t need to breathe.

“You know we wouldn’t have had to do that if you had concentrated on them instead of your fly.”

“The fly izz in the ship with Crowley but Azziraphale wazzn’t at the time. We wouldn’t have landed in the middle of a forest if you had let me drive,” Beelzebub snapped in reply. “Now we have to get them free or this is all for nothing.”

“Adam spelled the ship. He can’t use it to leave or transport out of it. All we have to do is get them out of it.”

“Know you nothing of hostage situationzz? It’zz not going to be that eazzy.”

“I know a little! Maybe . . .” He was reaching forward to caress their shoulder, finally giving the Prince of Hell an outright hug.

They kissed his neck in return before biting his ear hard. 

“Ow!”

“You dezzerve it. We have work to do. C’mon. Let’zz find our way out of here and to the ship.”

Determined, Beelzebub chose a direction, marching off without seeing if Gabriel was following.

**~*~*~**

Crowley sighed in relief despite their bad situation. His scar was back to the perpetually barely-healed red look it had maintained for the last year or so, meaning Beelzebub had done it. They had allies, even if those allies couldn’t be trusted under more normal circumstances. 

They were seated in, but thankfully, not restrained to the chairs at the table while Celion paced and cursed. He turned toward them, his eyes angrily landing on Crowley before flicking over to Aziraphale.

“Why can’t we leave?”

“I don’t know,” said Aziraphale. “The ship was made by the Antichrist. Maybe it’s inert because its purpose has been served.”

“I can’t even transport.”

“And I have neither answers nor powers I can use to thwart you,” replied Aziraphale shortly.

Immediately Celion pulled Crowley to his feet making Aziraphale regret opening his mouth. The knife against his back, he marched the demon a few metres from the table, ordering him to hold still. Crowley’s clothes vanished from the waist up. Based on Celion’s motives, Crowley guessed Celion was out to humiliate him in front of Aziraphale. To punish him in Aziraphale’s stead. To drive a wedge between the two of them. The demon swallowed down his emotions and stood stock still. He could take this. He could be strong. He could show Aziraphale he didn’t blame him in the least.

Aziraphale was now tied to the chair that was also turned to face them, tears in his eyes. Crowley held his gaze, mouthing _be brave_ as Celion made a cut across his chest that almost brought Crowley to his knees from the holy burn.

But he didn’t cry out. He wouldn’t cry out. He would take it for Aziraphale and show him that he would not let this manipulatively cruel being come between them. He looked at his horrified angel, mouthing to him _it’s ok _a second before Celion conjured up a metal-tipped scourge. 

Celion pointed to side of the ship. “Stand against that, hands on the wall. You will stay standing and your hands will not move, understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

The Dominion let the scourge fly, the flails biting into Crowley’s back, starting to shred it. The demon fought tears and pain and cries. 

Aziraphale could only sit there helpless and watch as the love of his life suffered so much for his impulsive comment. Guilt flooded him as he kept eye contact with Crowley as much as he could under the circumstances. Tears came hot to his eyes, flowing out on to his cheeks until he could no longer endure the sight of his partner’s blood spilled or the sound of the whimpers escaping his throat as he tried not to scream in pain. 

“Stop!”

Celion ceased, turning towards Aziraphale as Crowley stood there shaking, his knees locked to keep him from falling.

“Please! Stop flogging him! It’s my fault! Punish me!”

Celion nodded. “Yes, Aziraphale, it is. You opened your mouth and now Crowley must suffer for it. But he is rather used to these methods, so maybe I’ll try others. Maybe you two will come to understand that you do not cross me.”

He yanked Crowley away from the wall by his hair, throwing him to the floor, straddling the demon as Crowley struggled to keep himself away from the blade Celion was wielding despite the pain of having all his weight on his injured back. The Dominion was smiling cruelly.

“You blew it, Aziraphale. And Crowley, remember that it was his actions that brought this punishment on you. And I’ll just keep up the punishment until you admit it’s all Aziraphale’s fault, do you understand?”

And things got a lot worse. This time, Crowley did scream while Aziraphale, tears streaming down his face, watched the atrocious act in horror. But Crowley refused to say it was his angel’s fault. Never would he do that, even as more and more of his blood collected on the floor along with the pinky off his right hand and a portion of his ring finger.

“Fine. Then if you’re not going to say it, you won’t be saying much of anything.” Celion had Crowley’s head between his legs, holding it still that way. The knife was raised above him.

“NO!” shrieked Aziraphale.

**~*~*~**

Beelzebub and Gabriel had located the village, come across the inhabitants and found themselves explaining their presence on this planet and mission before they ended up skewered on the ends of strange-looking weapons. With some quick thinking they weren’t. Finding a space ship with life from elsewhere in it was one thing; coming across extraterrestrial life you had no idea was friend or foe on the surface of your world was quite another.

Nattiel and Dai took them in and listened to their story before escorting them to the launch pad by the beach. 

“We don’t launch manned vehicles into space very often, so it was lucky we even came across them,” said Dai. 

He stopped short when he felt the ward on the ship. So did the others. Nattiel’s hand rose to her mouth as she stood there shocked. She looked at Dai then the two strangers.

“Whoever has them is hurting Crowley. We need to get in there.”

“I’m going for backup,” said Dai who ran back towards the village. Go hide. Don’t do anything until I get back with some help, ok?”

The other three made for the trees, Nattiel nearly in tears. Beelzebub looked unconcerned and unsure how to handle an emotional outburst. Gabriel smiled an uncomfortable smile at them before looking out to assess the situation.

“What was your Choir, by the way?” he asked Beelzebub.

“That’zz kind of personal question, don’t you think?”

Gabriel sighed. “You know wards take a lot of power to break no matter if it’s made by the lowest-ranking Angel or highest-ranking Seraph. It’ll take at least two of us to do it and that might be pushing it.”

“I was pretty high but I choose not to think about such thingzz. We can do thizz.”

Nattiel looked at them wondering what they were talking about in their strange language. “Anything I can do?” she asked in her native tongue.

They had forgotten she didn’t speak English. Beelzebub shrugged. 

“We need to break the ward on that ship. Can you help?” they said in Enochian.

She nodded. “Of course. But shouldn’t we wait for backup? How powerful is this angel?”

“The three of us will be able to best him for sure,” said Gabriel. “He’s in the middle ranks. We need to attack that ward then rush in and get those two out.”

“Yezz, storming the place izz going to work. You’ll definitely not get them discorporated,” said Beelzebub sarcastically.

“Do you have any better suggestions?” snapped Gabriel.

“I suggest we lure him out,” said Nattiel. She was gazing out on to the beach. “It’s become quiet in there but the levels of paranoia coming off some individual are high. I haven’t sensed them off of Crowley or Aziraphale, so it must be their captor.”

She stood up from her crouching position behind a yellow-trunked tree and marched out on to the pad in full view of the ship. Beelzebub’s blue eyes went wide with surprise. Gabriel cursed under his breath.

“C’mon! We got to give her backup!”

“I’m doing it from here!” said Beelzebub. “If you get yourself killed, I’ll be most upset.”

“You will?” His violet eyes turned soft for just a moment.

“Shut it!”

Nattiel stood there with Gabriel a few metres behind her until the door opened, an unfamiliar wingless being poked his head out before shoving Crowley out, his body covered with cauterized cuts, some of them deep stab wounds. His hair covered his face, hiding it from view. The angel had a knife at his back which was dripping blood. Nattiel stepped back, partially in horror. 

Crowley had turned his head towards her, revealing the burned slash that cut diagonally across his left eye. She was very sure he could no longer see out of it.

“Let him go,” she called out to the stranger. “You’re surrounded here. We’re not going to let you take Crowley and Aziraphale. There is no need for violence. You return them to us and we’ll let you leave to return to your Heaven.”

“I can’t let them go,” Celion replied. “They’re going to change everything. I can’t go back to what I was when I had no power. All I did was relay orders to lower Choirs and go on missions to make sure people had faith. I haven’t had a day at work I enjoyed since destroying Sodom. That was power. The fear . . . humans begging me for their lives . . . You can’t imagine having to go back to the mundane after that. Well, I’m in charge now. Angels listen to _me_. They fear _me._ Look at what I’ve done to this demon. I can get him to do whatever I want because of the power I have over him.” He had noticed Dai flying in with reinforcements. Celion raised the knife so it could be seen by those flying in. “It’s show time, Crowley.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Begining quote -- _ Everybody's Fool_, Evanescence


	20. Bonded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I’m glad you’re ok. Let’s go get Crowley.”_
> 
> _Helping him up, they crept towards the door, Aziraphale becoming visibly upset the closer they got to the entrance. She could feel the rage coming off him._
> 
> _“Calm down. Please, Aziraphale. You can’t help him if you let blind anger get in the way.” Nattiel put a hand on his chest, keeping him from barreling down the stairs. “Deep breaths . . . there. Calm down. I know it’s hard . . .”_
> 
> _“He . . . I can’t . . . I can’t even process what he did to him . . . the cruelty. . .” whispered Aziraphale, tears in his eyes. “But believe me, I need to get to Crowley now. I promised him I’d protect him.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: This is no depictions of violence but this chapter is spent talking about the aftermath of it. Beelzebub and Gabriel also engage in a little primal play. It’s rough and a bit of blood is drawn, but they enjoy it. I’ve never pictured them as having a soft fluffy relationship.

_It is unspeakable._   
_It is everlasting._   
_It is for keeps._

Lowering the knife as Crowley minutely flinched, Celion walked him down on to the pad in front of the crowd. The other angels and demons from the town landed, circling the ship, ready to act when needed. Celion smiled to see them all. He bent to whisper in Crowley’s ear.

“You’d better obey, my slave. If you don’t, I just might cut Aziraphale to pieces while you watch,” he said. “Just like I did to you. Can you imagine him begging me to stop?”

He pushed Crowley away from him, the demon stumbling from pain and blood loss. 

“Kneel.”

With the threat to Aziraphale hanging over his head, Crowley did what he was told, kneeling on the strange concrete-like substance, the rough surface digging mildly into his shins. He stayed there, head down with his hands on his thighs. The inconvenience of a couple of sharp stones was nothing compared to the severe wounds covering his body. If he had been human, he’d be in more serious trouble than he was.

“What do you say to me for not punishing you further for your little plans?”

Crowley didn’t reply.

“What was that? You’re not going to answer me?” Celion asked. “Why is that? Oh, that’s right. I removed your tongue, didn’t I? Aziraphale has to learn, doesn’t he? And you were always entirely too mouthy anyway. I do regret the eye, but you should have held still; that wouldn’t have happened. And this knife is special. It wasn’t just blessed after it was made, but during its forging. If you ever manage the impossible and get free again, I doubt you’ll ever be able to heal those wounds.”

Crowley’s head sank low enough with the humiliation his chin almost touched his chest. He could hear the shocked murmur from the crowd.

“Ward’s down,” whispered the demon next to Nattiel. She stood off to the side out of Celion’s view.

She nodded. Carefully making sure she wasn’t in his range of sight, she slipped out of the circle and quietly up the stairs into the ship itself. As she snuck through the door she heard someone shout “Please! Stop! Just give him to us!” then Celion taunt the crowd, daring someone to come stop him. Good, they were keeping him distracted. She silently apologized to Crowley for leaving him in that situation but felt he’d understand.

Aziraphale was in the main room of the ship tied securely to a chair, head bowed as he listened to the commotion outside. Nattiel saw him in his light clothes as her eyes adjusted to the dark.

“Who’s going to dare try to get through the ward I have around me?” Celion was yelling, unaware he was dealing with magical beings in their own right. “Who’s going to save him?”

She approached, making sure to stay in front of him so there was less chance he’d startle and make noise. He looked up, his sky blue eyes widening as he saw her. She put a finger to her lips before working on his bonds. Once she had him free, she reached for the collar only to have it shock her. It was all she could do to keep from screaming in pain. Then she noticed the Enochian runes written on it. Squinting to read them, she found the ones that imbued it with the shock spell and obliterated them with her magic. The spell now nullified, she unhooked it from Aziraphale’s neck, throwing herself into his arms for a tight embrace.

“I’m glad you’re ok. Let’s go get Crowley.”

Helping him up, they crept towards the door, Aziraphale becoming visibly upset the closer they got to the entrance. She could feel the rage coming off him.

“Calm down. Please, Aziraphale. You can’t help him if you let blind anger get in the way.” Nattiel put a hand on his chest, keeping him from barreling down the stairs. “Deep breaths . . . there. Calm down. I know it’s hard . . .”

“He . . . I can’t . . . I can’t even process what he did to him . . . the cruelty. . .” whispered Aziraphale, tears in his eyes. “But believe me, I need to get to Crowley now. I promised him I’d protect him.”

He pushed her out of the way, charging down the stairs to face Celion one on one. The Dominion turned, surprised to see a powered-up Aziraphale free and ready to challenge him. The Principality’s wings were out; his magic was crackling along his silhouette like blue lightening licking at him, eager for him to allow it to strike.

Celion shoved Crowley aside. Someone bolted from the crowd to help him out of the way, getting him off the pad and into the safety of the circle. Nattiel, knowing how enraged Aziraphale was, urged everyone back to the forest. She had a feeling he was now going to flatten everything within several metres.

Celion smiled like a maniac, drawing up his power. “I’m a Dominion. You’re just a Principality. Who do you think’s going to win this, Aziraphale?”

“Me,” he replied simply, grounding himself not to the planet below him, but to Crowley. “Go to Hell.”

Drawing upon not only his own, but the more potent magic Crowley carried as a former higher-ranking angel, he combined their powers into something stronger than even a Dominion possessed. The blue lightening that hit Celion made quick work of him. He stiffened with a cry as it stung him, folding up into crouched position as he felt pain worse than he caused Crowley invade his body. The energy licked hungrily at him, reducing Celion to a pile of ash there on the launch pad. Celion didn’t even have the chance to react before Aziraphale’s strike hit him. The Principality let go of Crowley’s power, shaking as his tunnel vision let up and he remembered exactly why he did what he just did.

With a sob, Aziraphale ran to Crowley who lay on his side, covered in a blanket, with his head on the knees of a demon while an angel tended to him. He pushed both aside, taking his partner gently into his own lap, wings wrapping around him. 

“He’s _mine_ and _I_ will heal him,” he snarled. He made quick work of the collar, casting it aside and moving on to Crowley’s wounds. The demon was barely conscious. “Stay with me, my dear. Hang on. I’m here.”

“Go ahead and step away,” said Dai to everyone else. “You all know how the life bonded will respond when their mate is in danger.”

Gabriel and Beelzebub approached reluctantly, absent-mindedly hand in hand before they realized they shouldn’t be. Aziraphale didn’t even notice their presence. 

“Let uzz help. We’ll feed you power.”

“Get back!” growled Aziraphale clutching Crowley against his chest as he sat on the sand with him.

Dai shook his head at Gabriel and Beelzebub. “Don’t you have the concept of life bonding where you come from? A life-bonded will become very protective if their mate is threatened or in any other kind of danger. Let them be for now.”

“Wait . . .” called Aziraphale. “How did _you two_ get _here_?”

“Adam Young,” Gabriel said. “We know you need to set the world right. We were sent to help and believe me allying with you two idiots is the last thing I want to do, but chaos reigns supreme now. It won’t be long before our entire reality ceases to be.”

“Oh. Wonderful,” said Aziraphale sarcastically. “You’re welcome to stay in the ship until we figure things out. I just can’t bring myself to enter it anymore, so we’ll be staying in town and I’d appreciate it if you two kept away until I decide to send for you.”

Not wishing further communication with either of them, he transported himself and Crowley back to their borrowed house. Once there, he laid Crowley gently on the pillows in the living room, miracling him clean. 

“Crowley? Are you in there? We’re safe. Celion is gone and he’s not coming back. I discorporated him, maybe worse. I’m going to get you healed. The mission can wait until you are ready.”

Aziraphale assessed the damage done to his demon, his heart nearly breaking. Celion had unintentionally slashed across one eye in the struggle between him and Crowley then cut out a large portion of his tongue before Nattiel’s appearance on the landing pad distracted him.

Crowley looked him with tears in his uninjured eye. He could feel Aziraphale’s fingers brushing over him and gave the angel a pat. Focusing hard, he used a wish to try to fix his tongue. It didn’t work. Aziraphale nearly collapsed into sobs; Crowley sank deeply into despair.

_I’m sorry you had to see that, angel._ Crowley choked back cries as he resorted to mental communication.

“Don’t you ever apologize for what was done to you or that I had to witness some of it, my love. You had no control over that. Now hold still.” Aziraphale got on with the business of making Crowley at least as physically well again as possible.

_ I can heal myself, you know._

“Allow me. Please, Crowley? Your eye . . . I don’t think I can restore sight . . . Or your . . .” he couldn’t even say it. “. . . missing parts.”

The demon nodded. _I know. Just do your best, angel._

Closing his good eye, he felt the angel’s healing powers close the deep wounds and turn burned skin back to healthy. Gentle hands ran over his body just to make sure every wound was healed – even if the scars from the knife couldn’t completely be obliterated – before he felt Aziraphale lay down beside him, half his body on his chest, comforting him. Fingers stroked through his hair. 

Aziraphale felt Crowley’s breathing slow as he lay there with him, the demon’s body exhausted from not only the torture, but the accelerated healing Aziraphale had put him through to close every wound. It was all right, though. He was safe and in the next few days they could perform what actions they needed to do to get everything back on track. Now, sleep was the best thing for Crowley.

Aziraphale didn’t mention the major road block they just encountered for Crowley’s sake but he sat with the slumbering demon worrying about getting back. Crowley’s inability to speak now meant having to substitute Gabriel or Beelzebub for him when it came to saying the spell. It would mean rearranging their linking and putting more trust in one of those two and either one could try to use the chance to stack the deck in their side’s favour. Still there was hope and with any luck, they would divert the timeline and this one would cease to exist, taking all the painful memories, physical cruelty and mental abuse with it.

~*~*~

The natives had left after asking to and searching the ship, seemingly frantic to find something. They must have found it because they rushed off carrying a box minutes after enter the ship. Gabriel and Beelzebub were now free to enter it at their leisure. They waited awkwardly until everyone had gone back into town before climbing the stairs to the entrance. Beelzebub slammed the door to the ship shut as the Archangel vanished the blood drying on the floor. They glared at him, arms crossed over their chest.

“I should hate you.”

“Why?” Gabriel was genuinely confused by this outburst.

“You let angelzz torture my demonzz like that.”

“You never did like Crowley.”

“It wazz more than just Crowley!”

He walked over to them, taking the angry Prince of Hell in his arms. “I know Satan doesn’t interfere with much and you’re basically at the top of the food chain, but I have the Seraphim to answer to. They wanted slaves, so an entire department dedicated to wrangling them developed. I didn’t want it under me, but nobody gave me a choice.”

“You could have said . . . done . . . something!” They pushed off of his muscular chest as good as it felt to touch it, stalking across the room. 

“I did what I could without risking myself.” Gabriel followed after Beelzebub prompting them to turn and start hitting him until he grabbed their hands. “Bee, calm down. We both are stuck in situations neither of us want to be stuck in, but we can’t focus on that. Everything is falling apart and right now we need to be working to help those two idiots put it right. As much as it galls me, it’ll help us, too.”

Beelzebub pulled their hands free. “I’m still angry at you.” Their fingers were unbuttoning his shirt, scratching sharp fingernails down his sternum. 

He leaned forward, biting their collarbone rather hard as they yelped slightly with the pain they enjoyed. A hand tightened in their hair as he roughly kissed them. They bit his lip, drawing a bit of blood. Hands got rid of his suit coat then shirt. He about ripped theirs off, wrangling them to the bed in the backroom that now had fresh sheets on it. 

Beelzebub tried to escape as was part of their foreplay. They growled, scratched, bit, kicked when they could only be thwarted by Gabriel who threw them to the bed. They launched themselves at him, knocking him off balance so they could straddle him victoriously, sharp vicious nails at his throat. Flushed with desire, he grinned up at his unusual bed partner as hands curled around his neck.

“Been a while, hasn’t it?” he asked.

“Too long,” they replied.

He flipped them over, pinning Beelzebub to the bed by the wrists. Then found himself under them yet again. 

“Who gets to be on top this time?” he asked, pinching their nipples.

“You, but you’re giving me oral.” 

“Fair enough.”

He settled down between their legs, using his tongue to tease out their clit, making it harden. Plunging in, he took it in his teeth, biting it a bit harder than he originally intended. It wouldn’t matter. The two of them were very much into rough, primal sex. A heel banged against the middle of his shoulder blades; sometimes Beelzebub’s flexibility surprised him.

“Act like you’re trying to bite it off again and I’ll do worzze.”

So he sucked it sore instead, occasionally laying off long enough to lick at the inside of their labia, an act that drove them mad since they didn’t get as much feeling from it. They were frenzied and teasing just made it worse. He did it anyway, leisurely running his tongue in circles until they yelled at him to give them an orgasm. 

He moved back up to their clit, pinching it first before putting his tongue back on it. Oh, they’d get their orgasm, but it would be in his time, not theirs. Beelzebub disagreed. They pulled him in, grinding against him until Gabriel snapped angrily at them and threatened to quit. But it was too late. They had gotten what they wanted.

He frowned at the self-satisfied grin he saw when he slid up and made sure to enter them with a very rough thrust. Beelzebub yelped in surprise and delight. Their nails dug so deeply in Gabriel’s back blood was drawn. He hovered above them thrusting hard, hands firmly on their shoulders while feeling the good pain from the wounds they made. It felt so great to just release like this – primal, rough, like two enemies at war.

Beelzebub finally came, screaming loud enough to wake the dead and cursing Gabriel the entire time. He kept up his movements, giving them a snarling wild smile.

“I hope you have a few more of those because I’m not done with you.”

They flipped him over again, managing to keep the connection between them and held him down as they rocked themself against him, feeling him up inside of them hitting sensitive parts just right. They laughed.

“Who said_ I_ wazz done with _you_?” The Prince of Hell used their angelic counterpart to give themselves a few more orgasms before they allowed him to take over again and get his. 

They lay panting together on sheets wet with sweat and dotted with droplets of blood, catching their breath. Cuddling and tender aftercare were not their thing. Their aftercare consisted of resting together while barely touching one another for a few minutes before getting up to heal, clean up the mess and get dressed. 

Finally Gabriel turned to Beelzebub to say, “Shall we figure out what there is to do on this planet?”

“Sure,” Beelzebub replied as they got up. “I reckon we have some time to kill.”

~*~*~

Aziraphale looked up from stroking Crowley’s hair upon hearing the urgent knocking at the door.

“Aziraphale! It’s Nattiel, can you please let me in?”

With a flick of his hand, the door opened to admit Nattiel, another angel and demon. Nattiel was carrying an opaque black box while the other two carried a stretcher. Aziraphale stood up.

“What is going on?” he asked.

“We couldn’t find Crowley’s fingers, but we did locate his tongue,” she said. “Our healing abilities work a bit differently than yours and we had to learn some physical medicine techniques as well since we are fused with our bodies. Sometimes healing magic isn’t enough. I’m wondering if we can’t just reattach it then use our own power to reconnect the blood vessels and nerves.”

Aziraphale gave her a small, excited smile. “Yes. Yes, of course. It’s worth a try.” He bent over Crowley, touching him lightly. “Crowley? Are you awake? They found your tongue and would like to try to reattach it using their powers and some physical techniques I’m guessing like human surgery. Their miracles just might be different enough from our own to work. Shall we try?”

Crowley nodded weakly. 

“Let’s try it,” Aziraphale said to them.

They got Crowley up on the stretcher, whisking him away to their medical facility where Aziraphale spent hours waiting anxiously for news while some hybrid between physical surgery and supernatural healing was done in a separate room on Crowley. He paced nervously before sitting down before getting up to pace again before heading outside for five minutes’ of fresh air before repeating the cycle. Eventually the door to the other part of the center opened.

“How is he?” he asked the demon who came out.

“We think it worked,” she replied. “They’re waking him up now if you want to come see him. He won’t be able to speak yet but probably will tomorrow morning when we can heal away the swelling. We have no idea about how much ability to taste he’ll retain.”

“Oh, thank you. I think he’ll be grateful you’ve done all you could, even if it’s not perfect.” 

Aziraphale was led into a sterile room where Crowley lay on a platform topped with one of giant pillows like in their borrowed house looking very pale and weak, a patch covering his injured eye. The angel could not contain himself, walking quickly over to kiss his partner on the cheek before wrapping his arms gently around him.

“I’ve never been more glad to see you, my dear. Now don’t try to talk. There’ll be time for that later. But at least you’ll have your ability to speak normally back. I’m so sorry, my dear. This is all my doing. If I had kept my mouth shut none of this would have happened. I promised to protect you and failed. Forgive me?”

Crowley stroked the angel’s hair and just held him as tight as his weakened condition would allow – he was too exhausted even to form a mental link. Time would tell how much the surgery helped. Until then, Aziraphale expanded the platform with its pillow enough that he could lie on it with his partner, spending the night by his side and hoping gaining at least getting one body part back helped his mental state. Chances looked good he could do the spells, making them less dependent on the other two for delicate work involving trust.

~*~*~

Try as he might, Aziraphale could not restore sight to Crowley’s eye as Celion had been right about the knife’s abilities; nobody would be able to fully heal what he had taken from the demon. Crowley reluctantly accepted this fact and had taken to constantly wearing sunglasses again, ones with side shields like he favoured before Earth had burned. Only this time the left lens was completely opaque to hide the damaged eye from all possible angles. 

At least surgery had restored his tongue and its functions enough he could speak even though its muscles were a bit clumsy and his speech slurred. His taste buds were gone for good, so if he wanted to enjoy a meal, it required his powers, but at least he had a workaround. And a couple of missing fingers were no big deal – his pinky had been pretty much removed but he had a joint’s worth of his ring finger. Or so he kept telling himself although he remained acutely and painfully aware every waking moment of what he had gone through.

Crowley was anxious to get the spells done, but Aziraphale refused to allow him to do much of anything, insisting he rest to get his strength back before they started performing complicated spells that required flawless performance. He understood that perfectly, but his impatience didn’t always agree with his sense of logic. The thought of possibly living the rest of his immortal life in a body changed for the worst by torture with partially restored bits barbarically sewn back in hung over him to the point he could hardly stand it.

“I’m fine, angel. Let’s just do this.”

He rolled over on the pillow Aziraphale was forcing him to recuperate on after a short walk around the village so that he could watch the angel cook dinner for them. Propping himself up on his elbow, he sighed at the sight of the native foods. Nothing here appealed to him, but Aziraphale would make him eat some anyway. 

“I failed you, Crowley. From the moment we landed here until I got rid of Celion. I won’t do that again even if it means we need to wait until your body’s ready. It’s a couple of days. That is all. I promise.”

“You’re being overprotective.” Crowley pulled his blanket over his head. “Again. I’ve been practicing saying the spells.”

“Talking about the spells, I figured that we could do them here in the house while Beelzebub and Gabriel link to us from the ship. Beelzebub from the ship, anyway,” said Aziraphale. “I suggested to them this afternoon Gabriel be on Earth so we’d have a strong connection. I don’t want them around you.”

“See?” came Crowley’s muffled voice from under the blanket. “Over. Protective.”

“Do you want to deal with either of them?”

“No.”

“Get yourself up. I almost have dinner ready,” said Aziraphale. “Do you want to eat outside or in?”

“I guess out.” Crowley hauled himself reluctantly out from under his blanket.

“It’s a couple of more days, my dear. Then we get back,” said Aziraphale encouragingly. _Or at least I hope. Please let us get back to where he’s whole again._

Taking two plates of Alpha Centauri food made as close to Earth fare as he knew how, Aziraphale coaxed Crowley into the back garden where there was a table. He sat down, encouraging his love to sit and eat with him, although Crowley would only stare at his plate. Aziraphale smiled at him.

“It’s not that bad. This stuff tastes a lot like potatoes and those over there like beef,” he said. “I know you’ll have to use a miracle or two to actually taste anything, but I tried my best to pick things that were at least a bit like the food you’re used to. Please?”

“I can’t handle waiting, angel.”

“I know, love. I’m going to make it as bearable for you as possible.”

“Why are we? I’m not some human being who needs to recuperate after trauma. I’ve been through a lot in my life and am resilient enough to move beyond it after I healed myself.” Crowley was holding his fork but not eating.

Aziraphale looked at his plate, speaking quietly. “How often have you been forced to watch the world end? Or been captured by Heaven? Paraded in front of cheering crowds? Tortured violently to break your spirit? Forced to live as a slave? Had someone obsess over you so much, it led to not only your arrest, but mine? Been tortured in front of me? He did things to you that are haunting me, so I can imagine what it’s doing to you,” Aziraphale was near tears. “Don’t tell me that’s not a lot to process in a relatively short period of time. Plus you just had surgery. You need some rest and time to practice the spell’s words again thanks to what happened to you.”

Crowley stayed silent for a couple of minutes before saying just as quietly. “You’d be surprised what you can get used to, angel. Pain and fear only work for so long before it just doesn’t matter anymore. The only reason I obeyed him was because he threatened to harm you if I didn’t. Otherwise he could have taken me apart on that landing pad and I would have let him because I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. I would have rather died than let him break me.”

“That would have killed me.” 

“I know. Another reason I didn’t defy him.” Crowley got up. He headed back inside, having taken not one bite of food.

Holding back emotional tears upon hearing that statement, Aziraphale stared listlessly at his plate for a moment before giving up on trying to eat his own food. He followed Crowley inside. 

“Why do you feel like doing it now? It seems to have this sense of urgency to it for you beyond your injuries and cabin fever,” said Aziraphale to the pile of blankets in the middle of the all-purpose room’s floor. “I admit I never have spent much time studying time or time travel. I don’t even understand why Gabriel and Beelzebub had to do the one spell. Couldn’t we have done it after defeating Celion?”

Crowley sat up. “Maybe we were in the middle of a flux. Timelines were shifting and we were heading towards one where Celion had taken us back to Heaven. But Adam’s interference changed that so to keep things on the right track the spell had to be done then and there. Or maybe we were dealing with a kind of fixed point in time. We had always done the spell then, so someone had to step in to substitute for us to keep us on the right track or that moment would have been lost forever. We wouldn’t have been able to put my scar back once it had completely faded. But those are just theories. Nobody really knows how it works.”

“And something’s telling you not to wait?” asked Aziraphale.

“In a way, yes.”

“Tomorrow? Can we leave it until tomorrow?”

Crowley regarded his palm, pausing a moment. “Yeah, I think we can hold off until morning but no longer. The throb is urgent but not at the level where I believe we need to act now. Something must be happening soon, though, and we’re running out of chances.”

Aziraphale nodded in response and decided it was best not to risk it, even if Crowley was taking advice from a scar. He suspected God was communicating subtly with the demon through it. The angel would go convince the other two to do the spell in the morning. He was sure they wouldn’t be disagreeable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning quote -- _For Keeps_ Joy Harjo


	21. The Flow of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are finalized and implemented. Even Gabriel has his own plans if things do not go well, surprising Beelzebub. Aziraphale also makes a promise to Crowley if they do not get back to Earth. Will everything fall into place so they get their happily ever after?

_I loved you backward and forward in time. I loved you beyond boundaries of time and space._

“No,” said Aziraphale firmly at his meeting earlier that afternoon. “You will not have contact with him. You’ll work through me to get this done or we’ll do it ourselves, risks be damned.”

Three of the four from Earth’s neck of the galaxy had met at one of the village’s outside tables where the population would gather to eat meals when it wasn’t raining. It had a woven canopy of living tree branches like the one Aziraphale sat at with Nattiel and Dai not that long ago.

Gabriel looked irritated. “Aziraphale you need to cooperate here. Crowley is going to have to do at least one spell to send you back and . . .”

“Neither of you need to be anywhere near him to get the job done. Wouldn’t it be better if one of you was on Earth?” interrupted Aziraphale. “We, unfortunately, had to take the long way, but you, Gabriel, can transport back to Heaven and then to Earth. We can then make a chain to link the spell-caster to Earth.”

“Fine,” said Beelzebub petulantly. “It’zz not like I want to be anywhere around Crowley, either.”

“We do this in two days,” replied Aziraphale. “Crowley should be recovered enough from the hell he went through by then. Good afternoon to you both. We’ll meet back here at the same time.” He rose and left, walking up the path back to the house where Crowley was.

“He’s so touchy anymore,” commented Gabriel. “So, what do you want to do while we wait?”

“I have a few ideazz . . .”

They tackled him and the primal sexual play began all over again the moment they reached the ship, leaving both exhausted on the bed. The two lay there together, not exactly cuddling, but staying rather close to each other, engaging in pillow talk.

“Why did you put Crowley and Azziraphale together?” Beelzebub asked Gabriel. “You had to know Azziraphale wouldn’t treat him azz a slave. You already knew they were at lease friendzz.”

“Because,” the Archangel replied as he laid there beside them an arm idly tucked around them and resting on their opposite shoulder. “Well . . . they’re us in way. I figured if we couldn’t have happiness, maybe they could have had some semblance of it. Think of it as me living vicariously through them even if I didn’t know the extent of their relationship.”

Beelzebub couldn’t decide if that was an incredibly stupid answer or an incredibly romantic one. 

“So thozze two idiotzz have a life bond. They’re stuck with each other for eternity,” Beelzebub said with a laugh. “Can you imagine such a thing?”

Gabriel laughed with them. “No, I can’t imagine being stuck with you for eternity. No thanks. What we have is fine.”

“Yeah.”

But they both sat there in silence, wondering. Did they have one? What if they did? Would it be that bad? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to know there were someone out there who would always love you? Maybe it wouldn’t be such an awful thing to have after all . . .

The next morning Gabriel and Beelzebub were under the covers of the bed, Beelzebub teasing Gabriel with their tongue, occasionally adding teeth when he least expected it. The demon licked along the underside of his shaft, enjoying the tremors they were feeling run through the angel’s body. Switching tactics just to keep Gabriel on his toes, they bit along the shaft, ending about at the ridge that separated it from the tip, then taking the whole tip in their mouth to run their tongue along before squeezing it gently between their teeth. Sometimes outright bites were not a good idea.

Usually they weren’t gentle with each other, leaving bruises, bites, scratches and other marks on the other’s skin the course of a session, but that was what made it enjoyable for them both. Let Crowley and Aziraphale have the love and tenderness. These two were very happy with their primal physical relationship. Love was not needed, just lust. Or so Beelzebub kept trying to convince themselves. Life bonding sounded like an absolute pain.

“Oh, Bee. Right there!” groaned Gabriel. “Keep that up.”

“Yes, _Bee_. Keep doing just that,” came a sarcastic voice that wasn’t part of the fun.

Gabriel sat up while Beelzebub crawled out from under the covers, clutching the sheet to their breasts. There, leaning casually in the doorway with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face was Crowley. In the main part of the cabin Aziraphale stood turned away from the scene with a hand shielding his eyes, the visible portions of his cheek, ear and neck turning a deep shade of pink in embarrassment. He was quickly exiting the ship.

“Get out!” shrieked Beelzebub.

Furious at the interruption, Gabriel had to get in a potshot. “What do you know about blowjobs, anyway?”

“You’d be surprised what I could teach you about them,” replied Crowley, clumsily flicking out a scarred tongue that seemed too long to fit comfortably in a human-sized mouth. “But, I’m only here to tell you that we’d like to meet with you today around noon Earth time, that would be when the sun is at its highest point if you don’t remember, at the outdoor dining area. Carry on.” Crowley gave an ironic bow before leaving.

“I really do hate him,” growled Beelzebub. Flipping the covers back over their head, they started teasing Gabriel again.

Crowley sauntered out to a flustered Aziraphale who was very much upset at his antics. He stood there crossly, his brows furrowed in one of his more annoyed looks, his hands interlocked in his typical fidgety manner when he was upset. 

“I asked you politely to stay home. I did not want you to have contact with those two.”

“And I’m not about to let you wrap me in bubble wrap, Aziraphale. I’m fine.”

“Let’s go back and you can tell me the details of your dream so I know what I’m supposed to do.”

A little while later they were seated on the pillows in the main area of the house facing each other with Crowley looking rather uncomfortable. Aziraphale got up, picked up the weighted blanket where it lay on their makeshift bed and returned to drape it over Crowley’s shoulders.

“There. That should help. I want to shield you from them because you’re going to be dealing with so many triggers until we reset.” Aziraphale gave him gentle kisses on his cheek.

“Then let’s get this information session over with. You’re going to find me in my cell. Cell Six. It’s the third on the right as you enter. You know where that building’s located, right?”

Aziraphale nodded. 

“Ok. Now this is not going to be easy. The day you showed up they had me chained to the wall by my wings,” Crowley said rather emotionlessly as if he didn’t want to get too involved in painful memories.

Aziraphale looked like he was going to be sick. Wings were full of delicate bones and any damage done to them was painful.

“Stay with me, angel. Write this down if you have to.” Crowley conjured up a pad of paper and a pen to hand over to him. “You need to say exactly what I tell you. Do exactly what I tell you. And don’t try to make anything better for me in the cell, like release my wings. We can’t risk any little change that might cause everything to go wrong, ok?”

“Yes.” Aziraphale sat there pen poised over the paper.

“Get my attention by saying ‘Anthos’ first.”

“Anthos? What’s that?” asked Aziraphale as he wrote it down in his copperplate handwriting.

“Just a code word. Don’t worry about it.” The demon didn’t want to admit that was his true name. Or used to be long ago. Now it was ‘Crowley’ and that was the only name Aziraphale needed to know or that mattered.

“Then what?”

“I’ll say ‘Angel?’ and you’ll respond with ‘Hold on, Crowley. We'll be together again. Just hang on for a bit longer. You'll be placed with me.’” Crowley paused as Aziraphale jotted the script down.

“What’s next?”

Crowley pulled his blanket around his body tighter, clearly upset by recalling this memory as he described exactly about what he said about dreaming in response to seeing ghostly Aziraphale. “I’m going to be in sad shape, Aziraphale. I’ll be in a lot of pain and I just awoke after passing out from it. But you cannot react. You cannot do anything. Say your lines, make the mark on me and leave.”

Aziraphale nodded grimly.

“This is long . . . you need to say it exactly . . .” Crowley relayed what Aziraphale said about being from the future and the need to flee to Alpha Centauri, pausing to let Aziraphale write all that down. He then repeated the information about heading to Earth to search out the Antichrist.

The angel nodded again. “Go on.”

Crowley did, saying word for word the last portions of what he remembered from his dream. He looked away a moment before adding. “You caressed my cheek before you left. It felt so weird being touched by you while you were just a spirit.”

“Do I say anything else? Do anything besides put the mark on you and touch your cheek?”

“No. But we need to get the instrument you mark me with right,” Crowley filled him in on what he said about it hurting, how he blocked the pain the best he could and described the sharp instrument used. “It seemed like a strange knife. It had a blue handle and a kind of triangle blade if that makes sense.”

Aziraphale was up off his pillow and in the kitchen before Crowley could react. He rummaged through the drawers finally coming up with a knife that looked a bit like one of those light-duty knives commonly used for crafting. He held it up for Crowley to see.

“Yes! That’s it.”

“How’s that going to work if I’m going as a spirit only?”

“Concentrate. Believe it’s sharp and can cut.”

“I can’t hurt you, Crowley.”

Crowley stood up, letting the blanket fall to the ground and walking over to Aziraphale in the kitchen where he put his hands on the angel’s face and brought their foreheads in contact. Aziraphale noticed he kept half of his right hand buried in his curls, hiding his missing fingers from sight or being as overtly felt. “You block most of the pain. This is also a time where I was experiencing a lot worse. A cut on my palm is going to be nothing compared to what I was going through at that time, angel. Don’t think about it; just get it done. This is about more than a bit of discomfort. It’s about making things right.”

“I know. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Now get practicing. You need to be able to get the sigil right. We’re meeting those two wankers soon, remember?”

Aziraphale sat down at the bar separating kitchen and living room and got to work practicing, tracing the complicated wiggly sigil over and over.

“Crowley?” he said after a while.

“Yeah?”

“If we get stuck here, I will figure out a way to get you a new body. One that’s whole.” 

~*~*~

Aziraphale was sitting alone reading at a table in the dining area when the other two arrived. Gabriel raised an eyebrow as he slid on to a bench next to Beelzebub. They just crossed their arms and glared at the Principality.

“Where’s Crowley?” Gabriel inquired.

“I asked him to stay home. I was serious when I said I don’t want him directly involved in this portion. He’s been through enough at both your hands.”

“Hey, I placed him with you,” protested Gabriel. “Don’t start preaching to me about how I caused him issues.”

“But you didn’t do a thing to stop the abuse he went through at Celion’s hands, did you?” asked Aziraphale emphatically. “You knew very well he was starving and beating Crowley when you brought him to me. Do you know what that does to someone, physically and mentally?”

Gabriel fell silent. This was a side to Aziraphale he was not used to seeing. What happened to the easily flustered Principality he had always dealt with before?

“We’re going to have to link to him,” said Beelzebub irritably. “Knock off the gamezz, Azziraphale.”

“You’re perfectly capable of doing that remotely. You did with the fly,” replied Aziraphale shortly. “Gabriel, you’re the one who can get to Earth; therefore you’re the one who needs to transport back to Heaven and down there. We’ll link to you. I’m sure you have ways of contacting Adam Young, too, if you need his protection. I know Heaven was trying to convince the boy to allow angels to inhabit it.” Aziraphale turned now to Beelzebub. “We’ll link to you, too, as a source of extra power and you can also boost the signal to Earth if needs be. You have those flies down there. Might as well put them to good use. I believe from my research that’ll be enough of a connection to Earth for the spells to be successful.”

“I see you have this all worked out. So when are we doing this?” asked Gabriel.

“Allow us sometime to prepare. An hour Earth time. There’s a clock on the console of the ship so you won’t be tardy. Send a fly to the house.” Aziraphale got up and left.

Gabriel just stared at Beelzebub. “Well, here’s to nothing . . .”

Taking up their hand, he kissed the back of it.

“Don’t get romantic on me.”

Gabriel fixed them with violet eyes. “If this doesn’t work, stay in the ship. Don’t attempt to return to Hell. Let it burn. I’ll come back to you.”

“You will?” Beelzebub gave him a soft look.

“Yes. If Crowley and Aziraphale can remain here if this all goes wrong, so can we.”

“Oh. I’ve never thought about that,” said Beelzebub truthfully. “I’ve just considered that everything will work out the way it should and we will return home.”

They were walking back to the ship, strolling along the paths out to the pad, watching the tufted blue grass shot through with lavender veins around them wave in the winds. Gabriel looked at the demon and smiled. 

“I’ve enjoyed our time together and I regret we’re probably not going to remember it,” he admitted. “Listen, I don’t expect you to say anything in return and I know I’m running the risk here of sounding sappy, but I had to admit it.”

“I’ll stay. I think I’d prefer a little happinezz with you, az annoying az you can get, over permanent death. Just don’t expect me to pick out curtainzz and settle down or something.”

He understood what they meant, satisfied enough with that response. The two of them spent a good portion of the next hour snogging as only they could – with lots of biting and scratching.

Meanwhile Crowley was back at the house arranging things so the one doing the time travelling would be comfortable. A pillow was set aside for the one casting the spell with their makeshift bed pulled up beside it where the caster could keep an eye, as much as possible, on the castee. He didn’t know how they would solve any problems, but hopefully that would be a bridge they wouldn’t have to cross. 

He felt anxious about this. If they failed, he’d be stuck on this boring planet with a head full of abusive memories and the emotional trauma said abuse produced for the rest of his existence. True, he’d have Aziraphale and his freedom, but this wasn’t _home_. This was an agrarian society with a bit of technology thrown in. Enough to tease but not satisfy. It seemed they only bothered to invent something new once in a while when the mood took them. They only had their limited form of space exploration because they came to the conclusion they had better have a way off of this planet because eventually it, too, would come to an end giving them the choice to die with it or move on. 

Maybe if he and Aziraphale were stuck in this timeline they could repair the ship and travel through space. Maybe there were other more exciting civilizations out there that they could find. He wasn’t interested in a quiet life among angels and demons who had existed long before he was created. 

Looking down at his work, he hoped it would do. Crowley flopped down on a pillow with the spell book chanting portions of the spell – never all at once for that would activate it – willing his clumsy tongue to work correctly enough to say the spell. They could not afford to fail. Pushing himself to his limits, he dozed off for a few minutes before he heard the door open.

“That was quick,” he said looking up at Aziraphale who was coming over to join him.

“We have an hour.” 

“I’ve been practicing. So far so good. I’m not slurring too much.”

“Keep at it. Over and over.” Aziraphale was showing his nervousness by fidgeting.

Crowley scooted over so he could give Aziraphale a hug. “It’s ok, angel. It’s going to be ok. Don’t start panicking on me now.”

They sat there holding each other on the pillows, two anxious beings realizing how crucial it was they got everything right with the upcoming events. Crowley spoke the difficult words to get off his tongue over and over, eventually summoning his blanket to himself. He tried his best to cover both of them with it, finally giving up. With a hand gesture he wished it bigger, throwing half of it over Aziraphale’s shoulder before going back to leaning on him. 

“Thank you, my dear.” He kissed the demon lovingly. “But what if we don’t get back?”

“We will. You have faith that we will.”

But Aziraphale worried Crowley’s reattached tongue wasn’t up to the job. His anger at Celion for his actions grew and he wished briefly that he hadn’t have ended him so quickly.

~*~*~

“Ok, are you ready?” Crowley asked. 

“I don’t know.” Aziraphale was clearly still uncomfortable with all this. “It’s like a paradox . . . Future us tells past us to perform an action we already did before this future time arrives. Closed loop.”

Crowley sat on a pillow, balancing the book on his knees. “You’d better get comfortable with that idea because it’s how it is.”

“Let’s get this started before I start getting all anxious about it again.” The angel lay down on the makeshift bed.

Aziraphale heard Crowley chanting the spell, then found himself drawn out of his own body and into the past. He was standing in the cell of the newly-captured Crowley gasping in shock at the sight of the demon in severe agony. He knew he would be chained to the wall by his wings, but little had prepared him for the actual sight and the happiness he felt that Crowley was successful getting him here quickly dissipated. The demon crouched there on the cell’s bench unable to move much, trembling with pain, dirty and wearing nothing but a loincloth. Whimpers occasionally escaped his throat. It seemed like he was only half-conscious. 

_Oh, Crowley, I’m so sorry, _he thought as he choked back tears so he could get his message across. He took a moment to collect himself. Feeling ready, he spoke, reading from his script.

“Anthos.”

Reminding himself this was the past and he couldn’t change a thing or it would risk their mission, he went through what they had practiced, ending with him tracing Crowley’s sigil on his left palm. Believing the knife was sharp and could cut worked. At least he kept his hand from shaking as he deliberately performed an act of pain on Crowley. Still near tears, he caressed his partner’s cheek one time before chanting the counter-spell that would send his spirit fleeing back to his body in his correct time. 

Gasping for air, he sat up, reaching for Crowley who was waiting for him to return. Carefully putting the book aside, the demon crouched beside him and held him close. He rubbed his back until the angel calmed down.

“I know. I know. That couldn’t have been easy and you did so well.” He removed himself from the embrace long enough to show Aziraphale his palm. “See? It’s still there. We’re still in the game, angel.”

_Izz it done?_ Beelzebub asked through their fly, which was waiting outside the house near an open window. Aziraphale refused to allow it inside. 

“Yes, the first part is finished,” said Aziraphale.

_I will relay that to Gabriel. Let me know when you’re ready to do the second one._

“Need some water?” Crowley asked his partner. “You look like you just went through hell.”

“You telling me some of what you went through and actually seeing it . . .” Aziraphale couldn’t finish that sentence as his face took on a haunted look.

“It’s in the past. Don’t dwell on it, ok? Here.” Crowley handed him a glass of water he wished up.

“Thanks. Give me a few moments here and we can send you on your way to find me.” Aziraphale downed half the glass while pacing the all-purpose room.

Finally Aziraphale was ready. “We’re doing the second one,” he called out the window to the fly before slamming it shut. He wished they could have had privacy after the first spell; they were getting it after the second.

If they were still here when it was completed.

Crowley had made himself comfortable on the bed. Aziraphale took up the spell book and settled himself on the pillow beside Crowley. He gave a nervous smile while opening it to the bookmarked spell. Reaching out he felt the link to Beelzebub and, more remotely, their link to Gabriel back on Earth.

“Ok. Good luck, my dear.”

He took a deep breath and started to recite the spell.

Crowley found himself in the pub where he previously was getting drunk after thinking Aziraphale dead, taking stock of the situation after realizing his spirit self was whole – his left eye had vision and his other missing and damaged parts were restored. He savoured that for a moment.

It was pouring rain outside, and he was in here intoxicated and ranting about being a demon, causing him quite a bit of embarrassment over his past self’s behaviour. He pulled himself away from his own thoughts to pay attention to what was going on.

“Angel . . . demon. Probably explode.”

“Bleah.”

For the love of the Bentley, he was so drunk. He had to come back to this moment . . . Crowley sighed and quickly got back to listening to the conversation because he would have to catch Aziraphale before he left. 

“. . . We’re both going to have to get a wiggle on.”

He stepped up beside Aziraphale’s discorporated spirit. “Don’t look at me. Just don’t go back to the ethereal plane yet. Meet me on the roof.”

Aziraphale had the foresight to not even look surprised in front of drunken past Crowley. He gave a discreet thumbs up, hidden by the table, as his hands were folded in his lap.

Time travelling Crowley shot up through the ceiling right as he heard Aziraphale say, “Tadfield. Airbase.” Hopefully he’d be right behind him. It wasn’t a minute later he was joined by the angel.

“Crowley? Is that you?” he asked. “But you’re down there, getting rather depressingly drunk. What is going on?”

“I am down there, but I’m here, too,” the demon replied. “Time travel. It’s complicated and I don’t have the time to tell you the whole story. That would take forever. I just need you to do something.”

“What? No! I don’t even know if that’s really you or if you’re some other demon in disguise trying to get me to make a further mess of things.”

“I’m not.” Crowley fairly panicked, his heart beating frantically in his chest even though it was back on Alpha Centauri. “You own a bookshop but never like actually selling your books. Ok, owned. I’m so sorry that it just burned. It cut me to the core to see the place you love best in flame. You love doing crossword puzzles. Eating gravlax with dill sauce. Dining at the Ritz and that sushi place down the road from your shop where the chef knows your name. You collect Regency snuffboxes. We’ve been friends for thousands of years. We have the Arrangement.” Aziraphale remained unsure but he wasn’t outright disbelieving. Crowley soldiered on. “I saved your books during the Blitz. You fell in love with me.” He paused. “I was already in love with you. For ages. It never was just physical, angel.”

Aziraphale’s resolve was crumbling. “You have been? All these years?”

“Yes. Always.” Crowley closed his eyes a moment and got himself back on track. “Now I’m on a mission here to set things right. You didn’t get to a body in time and Heaven won the Apocalypse. I can’t convince Adam Young to not start things without you. I failed, angel.” 

“Oh, Crowley, whatever happened it wasn’t your fault.” Aziraphale was beginning to believe him.

“I ended up a slave in Heaven. You ran the library in the capital city. Empyrean. Why would I know that? I don’t converse with angels other than you and the Circles were just forming right when the Rebellion hit. No capital had been chosen and cities were just starting to be built and get names, remember?” Crowley fished in his pocket, pulling out a ghostly piece of paper with Madam Tracy’s name and address on it. “Please, take it. She can carry your spirit. Possess her and get to Tadfield, please. I’m begging you. If not, we’re heading for an awful future. Here, let me show you.”

He offered to put his hands on Aziraphale’s temples and the angel nodded. Laying his hands on the sides of his face, Crowley transmitted all the memories he had of his time in Heaven into Aziraphale’s mind. The angel stumbled back, sky blue eyes wide in shock.

“No . . .” He reached out to touch the demon’s hand. Crowley could see it was trembling as Aziraphale tried his best to compartmentalize all the memories he had just been exposed to. “I’m so sorry, my dear.”

“That’s what we have to look forward to if we fail. I can’t stop it alone. Now go. Time is running out.”

Aziraphale took the paper, reading it before slipping it in his own pocket. “I think I sense her . . . Don’t worry, Crowley. I won’t fail you this time.”

He smiled and disappeared. All Crowley could do was hope everything turned out the way it should.

The demon chanted the counter-spell and then was back in his body, panting as he sat up then struggled to his feet. Aziraphale was right there, concern and questions evident on his face.

“Did you?” he asked anxiously.

“Yes,” whispered Crowley as he caught his breath, then replied louder, “I found you after you met with me in the pub and gave you Madam Tracy’s address. We can do this. We can get Earth back.”

Aziraphale all but leapt into Crowley’s arms, squeezing him tightly, not a moment too soon for they felt the tug of the time stream pulling them from their current timeline on Alpha Centauri back to Earth right before the Apocalypse. They were yanked from each other’s arms as they tumbled back towards that critical time hoping they remembered this time to make the right choices . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning quote -- _Endymion_, Dan Simmons


	22. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley have made it back to the confrontation at Tadfield Airbase. The rest is history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sad this is all ending after months of working on this piece. 😭 One more concept chapter will follow this, but this chapter ends the story.

_Have you ever loved someone so much _   
_You would do anything?_   
_You would be anything? _   
_You'd defy everything?_

Crowley exited the burning Bentley, stumbling a bit from the effort of holding it together as he walked towards a scruffy-looking man and a woman in a brightly patterned coat at the gates of the airbase who had turned to look at him. The guard on duty was pointing a rather large gun at them in a threatening manner.

“You wouldn’t get that sort of performance out of a modern car.”

“Crowley!” came the angel’s relieved and joy-filled voice from the woman’s body as she smiled at the demon with a knowing look. They had done it.

“Hey, Aziraphale,” replied Crowley, returning the smile as the timeline where Heaven won started to fade from both their minds. “I see you found a ride. Nice dress. Suits you.”

Then the memories were gone. Events that had never transpired were wiped completely from their thoughts to be replaced by current happenings as they occurred there on the airfield. They would remain free of that horrendous experience as long as every player present here right now played their cards right.

“I’m here!” called Adam to the Horsepersons. 

Inside the complex, the Horsepersons heard him and exited. Not a moment later, Anathema and Newt crept in to have a look around, finding computers ready to send off nuclear missles. She pulled a card, reading off a prophecy; he admitted he’s not much of a computer engineer and just unintentionally breaks electronics.

“Fix it,” Anathema simply said.

Thinking he’s just going to blow the world up faster, Newt pressed a few buttons while explaining how it’s just going to speed things up. Computers in the room powered down. Around the world, countdowns stopped and systems went back to standby mode. Military personnel in secret rooms on secret bases containing the world’s most dangerous weapons sighed in relief . . .

On the tarmac, a showdown had started – the Horsepersons facing off against the Them with an audience consisting of an angel, a demon, a Witchfinder Army Sergeant, a false medium who turned out to actually be real, a witch and her new Witchfinder Army Private boyfriend.

Pepper had the flaming sword. “I believe in peace, bitch.”

It was the beginning of the end with three of the four kids sending three of the four Horsemen back into their symbols. Death, who could not be destroyed without serious adverse consequences, left to be replaced by the representatives of Heaven and Hell.

Beelzebub and Gabriel made their case for the war. Adam, meanwhile, showed a disinterest in ruling the world while Aziraphale and Crowley added arguments that the ineffable Plan was not always the great Plan. The Prince and the Archangel left in frustration as Aziraphale and the mortals breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, it’s not over,” said Crowley.

Moments later he was writhing on the tarmac as Satan’s anger beat violently against his mind. 

“Do something!” cried Aziraphale. “Or I’ll never talk to you again.”

They were in a timeless bubble, wings out, the Antichrist standing there looking at both of them. Angel and demon gave him encouragement, reminding him that he was human incarnate and even though a kid, able to still defeat Satan. And he did through love. Because that was the one thing a panicked Crowley minus his angel had forgotten the first time around – the incredible power that love had. Love meant you could disown your Satanic father in favour of the human one who cared for and raised you for the last eleven years. Or see your hereditary enemy as someone worth knowing. Love defied what was written.

Black smoke cleared to reveal Mr. Young’s old reliable well-kept car. It was over.

The rest was a whirlwind . . .

~*~*~

Hastur stared in disbelief as Beelzebub allowed Crowley to climb out of the tub of holy water, dry himself off with the towel Michael had miracled up, get dressed and stride off to the elevator. He noticed the demon’s usual swagger wasn’t quite the same, but didn’t think a thing of it. They had knocked him to the ground less than two hours ago with a blow that would have killed a human. He might have been a little off-kilter.

“_Ciao_,” said Crowley with a waggle of his fingers as the elevator dinged and he disappeared into it. 

Beelzebub for their part did their best to school their face into a look of fear the entire time Crowley didn’t dissolve into the holy water. Turning away with a bit of a smirk, they doubled checked to see if all the demons had left, even though they didn’t need to. None of them would cross a Prince of Hell.

“Why did you let him go?” demanded Hastur. “It was him against the rest of us.”

“It izz not your place to question me,” replied Beelzebub in a cross tone. “But if you must know, we have never had a cazze of a demon going native. Do you know exactly what he’zz capable of now?”

“No, but doesn’t he still need to be made an example of?” asked Hastur, pushing his luck.

“Not anymore. _He _just made a fool of _uzz_. I’m not going to repeat that experienzze. Nor do I know what else he can do since he can survive holy water. I don’t want to end up like Ligur.” They turned on their heel and left the room.

Beelzebub knew. Oh, they knew. Beelzebub had observed “Crowley” before the others nabbed him in the park and the mere fact that he was neither swaggering nor did he drive that ridiculous car of his to the meeting with Aziraphale tipped them off. But they didn’t care because they had done as Satan demanded. Hell had closure and a reason to leave those two alone now. They could go back to business as usual without having to deal with Crowley’s laziness, strange ideas on tempting and outright contempt for Hell.

What they wanted to know is how Crowley and Aziraphale found out even though it really wouldn’t matter in the end. As much as Beelzebub didn’t want to, they agreed with them. A stalemate was better. They had as much to lose as those two idiots did because they were in the exact same situation.

~*~*~

The demon Leach, who had been on the jury picked for Crowley’s trial, trudged out of jury room with the rest of the demons, glad there was a window between them and the invincible demon, who sat unharmed in the bathtub, splashing water on the glass. He had the unshakable suspicion he had met Crowley before. It was always possible. There were ten million demons in Hell and his job had him meeting new faces occasionally. After all these millennia, he was bound to forget a thing or two.

But he also had the nagging feeling that somewhere along the way he had made a big mistake that cost him a chance at a better existence. That he had been a good person at one time and one choice had cost him happiness. The thought bothered him for several thousand years.

~*~*~

“We couldn’t have just imprisoned him for all eternity?” asked Uriel as Aziraphale disappeared into the elevator with one last wolfish look back at her.

“I don’t want to have to deal with that,” said Gabriel as he stared out the window upon the clouds passing by the Eiffel Tower and the Empire State Building. “It involves too much paperwork with Head Office. It’s not like he’s going to do anything other than hide away in his bookshop and occasionally have lunch with that demon.”

“You do have a point,” said Uriel. “I’m going to make sure my troops have stood down. There were some overexcited angels who really were up for war, but I’m sure they’ll get over it.”

“I’ll talk to you later. Good job on the kidnapping today. Your team was very efficient.” 

Gabriel turned to look at the circle of stone where not ten minutes earlier swirled a column of hell fire around one demon in angel skin. He didn’t know how they found out, but he had to give those two some credit. The Aziraphale he observed through the Earth Observation Cameras before the trial was certainly not the usual one. He had eyed the restored bookshop suspiciously without an ounce of joy crossing his usually expressive face. In fact, he looked downright suspicious as if he was unsure the restoration was real. He had not only stared down three Archangels without becoming flustered over his own imminent death, but also dissuaded a demon from punching him without saying a word _and_ while tied to a chair. That was enough to convince Gabriel they weren’t truly dealing with Aziraphale. They were dealing with Crowley. 

Gabriel decided their little act of resistance wasn’t so bad. Head Office had ordered a trial and execution so he had to go through with it. But he was really in the same position as those two. He realized now he had a lot to lose if the War had happened. Like Beelzebub, for instance. He was warming to the strange relationship they had going on and he would find himself missing Bee if Heaven won and all the demons were killed. 

Yes, it was better this way. He decided to go get some work done. The chaos would calm down by tomorrow and just maybe he could sneak off to see his Little Bee. They’d punch him for calling them that, but he was learning that was just how they expressed positive emotions. Humming tunelessly, he headed off down the corridor to his corner office.

~*~*~

Celion was back in his cubicle after handing in his armour and sword to his regiment’s Quartermaster, staring down at the mountain of paperwork that came with being essentially a middle manager. He didn’t even rate an office like upper management did, just a slightly larger and more private cubicle than the angels below him. With a sigh he got on with it. Orders didn’t relay themselves.

He wished they had not stood down. Something told him that had they gone to war, he would have been destined for glory. Now he was going to spend God knows how many more thousands of years sitting at this desk every day making sure humanity stayed on the side of good. It would never compare to the action he saw during ancient times when Dominions actually carried out judgements against sinners. Now it was mostly done through the paperwork of a bureaucracy with only the occasional mission to put things right on Earth. Picking up another bland report, he wondered if it was possible to discorporate from sheer boredom and decided to try for a transfer to another department. 

~*~*~

The two at the center of all this controversy lay in Crowley’s bed the Monday morning after the Apocalypse, relishing the joy of being on their own side. There was something to be said about not having to sneak around and hide your activities. Aziraphale sighed in contentment as he traced a finger along Crowley’s chest. Crowley was preoccupied with examining his left palm where there was an angry red mark in the shape of a partial yet elaborate squiggle.

“That’s odd looking,” commented the angel. “Where did that come from?” He took Crowley’s hand, kissing each finger before placing a kiss on the palm itself.

“I don’t know. Probably a burn from the Bentley yesterday . . . umm . . . Saturday. I couldn’t quite keep the flames out of the passenger compartment.” Crowley traced a finger over it and it disappeared, the last physical vestige of the alternate timeline gone. “It kind of looked like my personal sigil. Weird, huh?” 

He grinned at the angel who was cuddled up at his side, resting his head on his collarbone. He shifted enough to kiss his forehead. Aziraphale hummed with pleasure. 

“Let’s just stay in bed the rest of the day,” he said. “I believe we deserve it after saving the world.”

“I agree with you wholeheartedly, angel,” replied Crowley, who wasn’t sure they did a damn thing to change the direction everything took there on at the airbase.

Aziraphale propped himself up on an elbow to look at him, sky blue eyes shining with love. “Right now I just want to spend all the time I can with you.” 

He leaned forward to touch his lips to Crowley’s. Soon he was rolling over on top of him, again running fingers over erotic parts to bring Crowley’s desire back to the surface. It didn’t take the demon long to respond with lust-filled kisses and touching of his own. Aziraphale gently entered him, smiling down at the love of his life as they once again took their passion to new heights, unafraid that their sides would find out what they were doing. Crowley lazily wrapped his long legs around Aziraphale’s hips and his slim fingers around his white blond curls. His golden eyes kept contact with Aziraphale’s blue ones as he moved in time with his partner. 

“Oh, Aziraphale. My beautiful angel,” he breathed. 

Everything felt so new, different and magnificent. It wasn’t like they hadn’t been physical like this countless times – touching, tasting, kissing, just enjoying the passion as they pleased each other. Aziraphale didn’t know why it felt this way as he moved within Crowley, why these moments now made everything seem so shining new, but he decided he was going to cherish it while it lasted. 

Eventually Aziraphale cried out his orgasm and Crowley’s stomach glistened with the wetness of his own climax just as the rest of his skin shined with the sweat of their act. A quick miracle or two cleaned all that up and Aziraphale cuddled up behind him, spooning him for he unreasonably felt fiercely protective of Crowley right now. It struck him as odd; there was no threat currently that would cause such wariness.

Weird flashes of memories he could not place ran through his head – Crowley’s body covered in bloody wounds, a metal collar, nightmares so terrible Crowley cried out while thrashing in his sleep until Aziraphale could calm him. Shaking his head, the angel put such confusing scenes out of his mind. They were probably the remnants of bad “dreams” he had. They both had had their share of those while they lived in fear of discovery. Aziraphale might not have slept, but he had learned the art of daydreaming and sometimes he experienced negative ones. The disjointed memories would fade into nothingness over the next week.

Now was the time for happy thoughts. He had an eternity now to spend with his demon and he planned on making the most of every single minute after thousands of years squandered. 

Crowley turned to give him a kiss, that flexible body of his allowing him to reach his angel’s lips with no trouble. Then he settled in to doze peacefully for a while. He felt safe and protected by Aziraphale even though he saw no outright reason for such a feeling. They were fine now with no need to protect each other from Heaven or Hell. They would be left alone for a while, hopefully millennia. It was time to start really living. If Crowley felt Heaven or Hell stir with the longing of war, the next thing he was going to do was take Aziraphale’s hand and flee with him to another world. They would be pawns no more.

How wonderful this felt for both of them – the freedom to love each other openly. To finally be able to live their lives the way they chose without fearing for their own safety or the safety of the one they loved. It was just the wayward angel and the errant demon, two beings who should have been Enemies, but now looked forward to forging a future together on their beloved Earth. There was definitely something to be said about being on your own side.

As their new life began and they lay there in the afterglow of their loving act, neither angel nor demon noticed the collection of tiny stars floating above them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Opening quote -- _ An Angel Fell [A Good Omens Fansong]_, Nine
> 
> Crowley exhibits some symptoms of psychological trauma. Does he have PTSD or something else trauma-based? I don’t believe so. Such disorders are human psychological issues and he is not human so we are dealing with a different mental baseline than what would be found in humanity. That doesn’t mean angels and demons don’t experience trauma, especially ones who have lived on Earth for thousands of years and picked up human traits as they’ve gone along.
> 
> I felt it just wouldn’t be right if he came out of all that he went through unscathed. So Crowley is most definitely experiencing mental trauma in this story even if he doesn’t fully develop human-based psychological issues as a result. Therefore, he does have very apparent anxiety issues and actively avoids things that trigger him. Plus there are those nightmares and the occasional panic attack. Hurdles that he and Aziraphale have to address as they move forward in their quest to get back the Earth they love. And they address at least one in a real way.
> 
> There is something called Deep Pressure Touch Stimulation that helps with anxiety, PTSD and a number of other issues that leave people’s brains on high alert. This is why I have Aziraphale discover laying on Crowley when he’s having nightmares quiets him, then creating for him a weighted blanket to wrap up in whenever he needs it. Pressure from deep touch stimulates the release of serotonin that helps calm down an anxious brain. A weighted blanket helps simulate that pressure whenever the person on high alert needs that calming influence.
> 
> I have one myself for insomnia which is why I know a bit about them and was able to incorporate one in the story to give Crowley a bit of comfort. Poor baby needed it. ❤


	23. More Concept Material

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something I never published that I drew a couple of ideas about Alpha Centauri from and expanded upon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in July 2019 and never got around to publishing it. So I used it for reference when I started developing what the planet in the Alpha Centauri system might look like and decided what the lifeforms there Crowley and Aziraphale would encounter would be like. It led to the idea of a village of refugee angels and demons from a previous apocalyptic event, and the recreation of Earth and angelic beings. From that grew the whole plotline about Aziraphale losing faith in their mission and wanting to stay.
> 
> I'm throwing this out there without much editing done on it, so apologies if it reads rough. :)

Crowley was correct, unfortunately. There was some breathing space of a few thousand years before Heaven and Hell decided the time was right for their war. And war it was.

The Earth burned and humanity was destroyed in the wake as the two sides worked together to wipe out every last human alive out of fear of what the humans had become capable of through technology. It was no longer a world for angels and demons. Both sides feared a mortal race that was well on its way to becoming divine in its own way.

Aziraphale and Crowley could do nothing even though they still stood with humanity. They were only two supernatural beings against an army of millions of them. Eventually both were captured then pressed into service, the attempted executions of long ago forgotten. Their sides seemed to think it was a greater anguish to force partner to fight against partner in the next wave of the War to End Everything. With humanity gone, Heaven and Hell had turned on each other.

The Almighty was still absent, not speaking to even the Metatron. The Adversary had not been merely sent back to Hell by Adam Young; he had been erased from existence when the boy told him he was not his father. The angels had been running the show for almost all of human history. Satan’s lieutenants were the ones in charge since that first attempt at world destruction. Chaos reigned supreme.

Beelzebub eventually had been killed by Michael in a dual between the two. Both sides watched the Prince of Hell crumple to the ground after a fight that could have been either one’s. Michael was gravely wounded in the process, exiting the war until Raphael could heal her.

Crowley found himself in charge of the Legions of the Damned. Suddenly, he went from traitor to the one who could save them all because he was the only demon with an imagination; the only one who could think outside the box. It wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be enough, ever.

They were overwhelmed from the start – only one third of Heaven Fell in the Great Rebellion. The angels greatly outnumbered them. Demon by demon, Hell started to realize this, understand that even Crowley’s cunning couldn’t pull them out of a sound defeat. Crowley felt wearied by it all. All he wanted was his angel back along with a safe place to hide away with him. Instead he was fighting to keep the carnage down and hopefully come to some kind of cease-fire until Heaven decided it was all or nothing.

He had lost Aziraphale to the other side, half his troops had been destroyed and it looked like the remaining demons still alive would be joining them very soon. In their anger, their despair, they blazed quite a path through the Army of the Divine. It was a scorched Earth policy that left every angel in their path dead. Heaven had forced Crowley’s hand in that manner. He hated himself for what he had become.

The Legions were under orders to only take one prisoner. Crowley wanted to make sure Aziraphale stayed alive. The best way he could accomplish this was by having him captured then delivered to him so he could personally keep the one he loved safe from harm. If he couldn’t, they would perish together.

The life of any demon who dared to kill him was forfeit. Crowley would make sure that demon died the most painful death possible before he followed Aziraphale to the grave. There would be nothing left in the world for him if his angel was gone.

Currently, he was in hand-to-hand combat with Michael, sure that he wasn’t getting out of it alive when suddenly the Metatron approached to call for a parley. Michael backed off at the appearance of her superior, standing off to the side with head bowed and sword held casually by her side. Crowley was not fooled. It would take the Archangel a fraction of a second to become lethal again.

At the sound of “Parley!” being boomed across the burned and broken battlefield, both sides gathered behind their leaders, the fighting momentarily stopped. Armies stood behind both the Metatron and Crowley, the infernal looking more battered and bruised than the ethereal. 

“This ends now,” said the Metatron. “You will be cast back into the Pit and sealed in never to surface to bother us again. If you turn on yourselves and destroy each other down to the last demon, that is not our concern.”

“That’s not much of a parley,” sneered Crowley. “What do we get out of it?”

“You get a Realm of your own. Rule it how you choose, Crowley.”

“Ok . . . An isolated Realm of my own to rule, which I don’t even want. How nice of you leaving me thousands of bored demons to find busy work for. Thanks so ever much. _How_ is that negotiation, again? You’ve offered me nothing I desire.”

The lieutenants standing behind the Metatron parted, revealing a kneeling figure dressed in white, hands chained, white-blond head bowed low. Crowley immediately reacted.

“Aziraphale! No! What did you _do_ to him?”

“Nothing. He’s just been held as a prisoner. He’s yours now,” replied the Metatron. “It is an ancient Earth custom that the winning side would offer a member of its own tribe to the losing side as a symbol of the end of tensions between the two. We offer you Aziraphale as that traditional peace offering.”

“No! You can’t. He’s not meant to Fall. He’s the best among you!”

“He will not Fall. Only God can make that happen, but he’s no longer one of us.”

Tortured blue eyes met pained serpentine ones. Not Aziraphale. Not the purest of angels, in terms of belief, condemned to the Pit. This couldn’t happen. Better Aziraphale be separated from him forever than endure eternity in Hell. How could he endure the horribleness that was Down Below with that unpolluted belief of his? Crowley might be in charge now, but he was smart enough to know Hell was always going to be Hell. He couldn’t conceivably make it a place Aziraphale could cope with. He shed tears at those thoughts, not concerned that millions of angels and demons could see him doing so.

“And if I don’t accept?”

Michael walked over to Aziraphale, her sword re-ignited. She stood with it poised over his neck. To his credit, Aziraphale didn’t flinch. 

Aziraphale’s protector and partner did.

“No! You can’t kill him. Please . . .” Crowley begged. “Let him go. I accept.”

Aziraphale was helped to his feet, unchained and allowed to run over to Crowley, who hugged him tightly. All around them demons screamed as they were sucked into the Earth, never to return. Crowley unwound from the embrace, quickly taking Aziraphale’s hand. Dragging the angel after him, he leapt into the air.

“C’mon! Beat those wings! We’ve got to escape!”

Surprised into action, Aziraphale clumsily flapped at first then wasted no time getting up to steady strokes that helped carry both of them higher. He gave Crowley a confused look. Crowley returned it with a reassuring smile.

“We’ll get killed!” cried the angel.

“Is that so bad? Neither of us is going to like our “reward”. C’mon, angel. We’re off to Alpha Centauri. We should have done this the first time.” Crowley’s grin was feral and his auburn hair fiery in the sunlight as they passed beyond the cloud cover. 

He looked down at Aziraphale whose eyes and hair shone like the sky and sun in this utter freedom. Aziraphale smiled slightly. It was a scared smile, but a trusting one. Willingly, he allowed Crowley to guide them up away from the carnage below.

On the battlefield, the Metatron held Michael back from following them and barked at the archers to stand down.

“You’re letting them get away?” demanded Michael.

The Metatron looked serenely at her with eyes the color of deepest metallic gold. “The Seers foresaw this future . . . one of many. I hoped it was the one that would come to pass.”

“Why?” Michael watched them dwindle from a black-robed redheaded demon holding the hand of a white-robed, blond-haired angel to two dots that disappeared into the clouds. “If those two don’t deserve death for all they’ve done, they surely deserve imprisonment for eternity.”

“Yes, but imprisonment means the chance for escape while death means the chance their spirits would eventually be recreated. In the near future, the Almighty will start creating new angels and humans to replace those lost, pulling together the scattered atoms of former spirits. Paradise will be reconstructed. We do not need another pair of freethinkers among us,” replied the Metatron. “Their rogue atoms will no longer be around to trouble the world.”

He surveyed the broken land containing the remaining angel army. “Send them into the ground to kill all the demons. We cannot risk them ever rising again. Without Lucifer’s spirit to resurrect and those two troublemakers gone, the Almighty can re-create the Fallen as proper, obedient angels. As further precaution, the Seraphim will weave a spell around the Realms to prevent our rebellious angel and demon from ever returning.”

Michael nodded. “It sounds like we just might get our Paradise after all.”

“We will. We will make sure of it this time.”

~*~*~

Two balls that were shields against the harsh space environment barely held together after being buffeted by radiation for years floated gently to the beach to reveal two beings – one with tousled fiery red hair and yellow serpentine eyes, the other with a curly cloud of white-blond hair and sky blue eyes. They still wore the tattered, battle-damaged tunics they left Earth in. The one in black pulled a sword from his belt, the one in white had no weapon.

“We are truly on our own now,” commented Aziraphale. 

Crowley squeezed his shoulder in an attempt to reassure him. “We’ll be fine. We survived the trip and it looks habitable here. It should be ok.”

“What about our powers?”

“What about them? I still feel mine. It wouldn’t make sense if we couldn’t use them anywhere in God’s Creation.”

Aziraphale poked a bit at the green sand with his sandaled foot and stared at the riot of colors that made up the various tree leaves. This place was going to take some getting used to. What was he going to do without books? Putting that thought aside, he reached inside of himself to feel for his connection with God. It was still there, mourning for the destruction of Earth. 

“I still feel the Divine Grace,” he said to Crowley. “God is grieving the loss of Earth. Why didn’t She prevent it?”

“I don’t know. It’s not like God talks to demons. She barely talked to me when I was an angel. Let’s take a look around.” 

They headed into the forest with its trees of different coloured leaves. Alien species of bird-like creatures that flew with four wings sang high up in the strange trees. Something furred galloped by on six legs. Unfamiliar squawks and calls surrounded them, making Aziraphale rather nervous, causing him to reach out to grab the demon’s hand. Crowley seemed to take it more in stride.

More deliberate sounds than those of animals moving around came from the east in the forest. Puzzled the pair moved that direction to check it out, Aziraphale holding tightly to Crowley; Crowley raising the sword in a defensive position as they moved forward carefully. Sentient life was not exactly something they were expecting.

Aziraphale ignited the blade, making Crowley jump.

“Don’t do that!” he hissed. “You almost scared me to death. I’m on edge enough as it is here.”

“It’s impossible to scare you to death, my dear.”

“Shhh. Just prepare some offensive magic, ok?”

Aziraphale crept up to peek through some pink-leaved bushes. He blinked in complete surprise. “Crowley, it’s a village.”

Crowley pushed aside branches to view the primitive but comfortable-looking village complete with humanoid creatures that greatly resembled Earth’s humans. He almost rejoiced out loud. They were not here alone and he found that comforting for some reason.

“Life finds a way, right, Aziraphale? I forget what film that’s from, but it’s not exactly important anymore, is it?” Crowley grinned. “A whole new set of humans free to develop as they choose.”

“No ethereal plane here,” commented Aziraphale. “I can’t move my wings into it. That means no Heaven or Hell. Do you think God wanted to start again without interference? Or is it part of the ineffable Plan that we’re here? Are _we _meant to guide them?”

Crowley thought a moment. “No. They’re meant to guide themselves. We should keep our distance and watch from afar for a while. C’mon. Let’s head a few miles away from here and make our own camp for the night. Hopefully there are no apple trees on this planet; I’d like to avoid those, too.”

Aziraphale gasped in excitement, pulling at Crowley’s tunic. “Crowley, look! They have wings! We’ll fit right in.”

And the humans did – feathered wings of various colors and shades within those colors. They spotted every color of the rainbow, silvers, even some off-white ones. With a little help from their powers, they could change theirs enough to blend in, if they so desired.

“I know, we can’t guide them, but we can live among them like we did on Earth.” Aziraphale got a far-off look in his sky blue eyes. “We still get to be a part of it all over again. Imagine what they are going to be this time around without the threat of destruction hanging over their heads.”

Crowley laughed and kissed his angel. “You’re going to invent books if they don’t, aren’t you?”

Aziraphale’s sweet, sly smile told him he just might. 

They took each other’s hands, their fingers lovingly interlinking. Together they headed off to find a patch of paradise they could call their own until they were ready to introduce themselves to the winged humans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know of no ancient Earth customs like I described here, but it’s not like angels actually know anything about Earth. “Thank you for my pornography!” comes to mind.
> 
> If you don’t know, “Life finds a way” comes from the original 1993 Jurassic Park film (and old internet memes everywhere). It’s Crowley. In the book, at least, he’s a cinephile, so he probably has a whole head full of various and sundry quotes from the films he’s seen.


End file.
